Forever A Fugitive
by XFauxAfflictionX
Summary: After the battle of Alcatraz, John Allerdyce finds himself faced with an all new enemy; one with powerful government connections. He must figure out his own fate before tackling this new threat. He has all new allies, but they may not be enough.
1. Chapter 1

Just a note to my returning HBH readers: this is after X3. I will do that one in his POV eventually, but as you've probably figured out, I'm very accurate and have to watch the movie on my computer as I'm writing so that I get everything right. It's fun, but a pain in the ass. So here's after X3; thanks for coming back. And if you're a new reader, welcome.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 1**

**Capture**

Pain. The undeniable throbbing on the inside of the skull that can make a person wish they were in a guillotine instead. It's the kind of agony that clouds your thoughts and hinders your movement. Everything hurts; noise, light, every shift or stir in position only makes it worse. The sheer magnitude of it is nauseating, and makes your fingertips tingle with numbness.

John Allerdyce groaned as he slowly came to. His head. Oh God, it hurt like hell. And his back throbbed, telling him that he was lying on something very solid, and had been for a while. He tried to take a deep breath, but the slight influx of blood to his brain made him feel like someone had stabbed him through the eye. He gasped, and returned to lying still. Where was he? What happened?

He tried to open his eyes, and bright white light flooded in, making him twitch in pain and slam them shut. Some kind of fluorescent light bulb maybe? He took shallow breaths, steady and slow to avoid making the monumental headache worse. He extended his fingers to whatever surface he was lying on, and it felt smooth. It was cool to the touch, and flat. Metal?

Then a thought struck him. That comforting, familiar feel of his igniter; the instrument Magneto had created for him, was gone. He was used to just flicking his wrist, and having a tiny spark to turn into whatever blaze he wished. He was so accustomed to feeling it's brace-like surface on his wrist that he felt helpless without it. He was without his power, his one certainty in life, where was it?

Panic set in, and he sat straight up, opening his eyes wide. He could tell he was on a raised surface, but that's all he could take in. The second he did this, the headache increased in intensity so quickly and powerfully that he doubled over, swung his legs off of the pedestal, and vomited on the floor. He moaned in agony, and sunk to his knees on what he now noticed was a polished, chrome floor. He slowly looked up, body shaking, to let his eyes adjust to whatever light had been shining so brightly. He crab-crawled away from his current spot and into a nearby corner to get a better look.

He was in some kind of room, probably no larger than ten by ten feet. The walls were lined with padding, and in the center was a chrome metal bed that resembled the beds in prisons. Apparently, that's what he had been lying on, since there was absolutely nothing else in the room. Above the bed, several bright, circular lights were pointed right on it. It kind of resembled a dentist's chair, minus the dentist. On one wall, the one that had been at his feet when he'd been lying on the pedestal, there was what resembled a giant mirror. It was nearly the size of the wall itself, and John immediately recognized what it was. It was one-way glass, the kind used in interrogation rooms. People could see in, not out. So someone was watching him. Someone who didn't want to be watched in return. Who? And why did they feel the need to hide? This mountain of questions just kept getting bigger.

He noticed a door, also lined with padding, and thought about trying for it. He didn't like this one bit, and needed to get out. He needed to find Magneto, Callysto, Arclite, and the others. Where were they? Why weren't they with him? He thought about going for the door again, but the tiniest movement made his head throb again, and he decided to postpone his little covert escape plan. The door wasn't going anywhere.

Just as he leaned back onto the soft corner behind him, he noticed a slight pressure on his forehead. He reached up and felt some kind of cloth wrapped around his head. He thought for a moment about the last thing he remembered. He had been fighting with his old friend and schoolmate, Bobby Drake a.k.a. Iceman. And he had been winning too. He'd had Bobby under a magnificent blaze, one that would have permanently wounded him if he hadn't covered every inch of skin in a protective layer of unbreakable, yet somehow flexible ice. And then he'd cheated. It was all coming back to him now. Bobby had grabbed John's wrists, along with his igniter, and frozen all of it. John had been so engulfed in his winning battle that he hadn't been concentrating on the whole of the flame, only the base, the source of the whole thing. So when Bobby had extinguished his source, all his flames went out. He had been about to call on some of the fire surrounding them from the cars he'd ignited earlier, when Bobby's head bashed into his own. After that, darkness.

Cheating. That was so unlike Bobby. He knew John needed fire; that he couldn't create it, only manipulate it. Maybe he had been afraid. Afraid of loosing, so he'd cheated to make sure he didn't. But how the hell did that put John here? And where was "here?" He leaned forward to try for the door again, and when only minor agitation throbbed through his head, he decided to keep going. He put his feet gingerly under himself and pushed to a standing position. He thought he would be fine for a second. Bad call.

His head throbbed again, worse than before, and he threw his hands to his temples, hoping that somehow, the pressure would make it stop. It didn't. Small black dots appeared in his sight, then his vision went completely black and he collapsed onto the metal floor. The impact made it worse, and he yelled in frustration and torture, wanting anything to make the pain go away. He shut his eyes tight, his body began to shiver, and he started to hyperventilate, still clutching at his head. He curled in on himself, into the fetal position; the pain was only strengthening. He thought he might pass out for a moment, when he heard the door open.

Every primal instinct told him to find out who it was, and if they were here to help him or hurt him. He wanted to, but his brain's reaction to such intense pain wouldn't let him. His eyes remained closed tight, so all he managed was to push backward, back into the corner, so at least his back wouldn't be exposed.

"It's ok," came a soft, obviously feminine voice. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and that helped him relax a little, but not much. "I'm here to help you."

The pain wasn't receding as it had earlier, and he was afraid of it getting worse. He chanced a look at this person, fearing the light would do just that. It didn't though, because whoever was kneeling before him was shielding his eyes from the light. He couldn't make out any features, just an outline.

"Here," the woman said, and he noticed her holding her hand out. There was a single pill in it, and in her other outstretched hand was a glass of water. "For the pain," she said, shoving them toward him again.

He always considered himself an intelligent guy, and he wasn't one for taking random pills from random strangers, but at the moment, he couldn't care less. Nothing could be worse than this.

He tried to lean up, but whimpered and fell back to the floor when the pain got worse yet again. The woman set aside the pill and water, and helped him lean up, slowly, so as not to hurt him. The room started to spin, but at least the pain didn't intensify. Once he was sitting up and leaning against the wall, she handed him the pill, and he popped it before she even had time to hand him the water.

"Are you okay," she asked.

He almost laughed, but that proved to be painful too. "Stupid question, dontcha think?" He always treasured his witty comebacks.

She didn't answer, only sat on her ankles for a moment, watching to see if the pill helped. And after a few agonizing minutes, it started to. First the numbness in his hands dissipated, then the uncontrollable shivers stopped. The pain, however, persisted.

"What's the matter with me?" he asked, very quietly.

"You have a moderate concussion," she replied, still studying him.

"Figures," he replied. That blow to the head could definitely do that. "And exactly where am I?"

"You're at a place called the IFCM," she said, and rolled off her ankles to sit Indian style. "It stands for Incarceration Facility for Criminal Mutants."

"So, in English: a prison for mutants?" he replied.

"I suppose," she said.

"Who are you?" he asked, finally getting a good enough look at her.

She was older, probably in her late twenties, but she still looked good. She had brown hair, pulled tightly back into a ponytail, and glasses. She wore a simple white button up shirt and long white pants.

"I'm a nurse practitioner here," she said.

He nodded, only realizing that that would hurt after the fact. His head throbbed again, and he sharply inhaled. His hands flew back to his temples, and he held his head for a second until the throbbing stopped. When he looked back at the woman, he noticed a look of extreme sympathy.

"Here, those need to be changed," she said, reaching toward him.

In any other circumstance, he would have pulled away, but it didn't seem worth it. So he sat very still as she unwrapped the bandages that had been on his head. It was only then that he realized the blood on them. Bobby's head-butt must have split the skin.

The pain was starting to subside, little by little. It still hurt, but less than it had before.

"What's your name?" he asked, trying to be as still as possible.

"Quincy," she replied, packing the dirty bandages into a black bag that he hadn't noticed before. "Quincy Fallon. But it's just Quinn to you."

He was about to make a snide remark about "Dr. Quinn, medicine woman," but again, it didn't seem worth it.

Quinn stayed with him for the next hour, making sure he was okay. She provided answers to few of his questions. These included that he'd been here and asleep for almost a day, and that "here" was in upstate San Francisco. She cleaned up the mess on the floor, for which he apologized. She told him not to mention it, and decided that the cut on his head would heal better without bandages, and left it undressed. She also provided some crackers, thinking he could keep them down. He didn't. But at least this time she had given him a trash bin.

Every move hurt, and it made the room spin. Quinn turned off three of the four fluorescent lamps over the bed to make him more comfortable. It helped a lot, and after a few more minutes, she decided to help him back onto the bed. He was apprehensive, but she was sure that if they went slow, he'd be okay. He had trust issues, but he decided not to argue, and let her do whatever she wanted. She knelt beside him, snaking one arm behind his back and under his opposite armpit. She helped him slowly to his feet, letting him lean against her when his head throbbed and his legs almost gave out.

She helped him onto the bed, and he was finally able to relax.

"I'll be back in a few hours to give you another dose," she said, and he decided to wave a hand in thanks rather than nod.

"Thanks," he replied, voice getting heavy. He couldn't remember the last time he'd really actually slept. He'd taken quick naps here and there, but good, restful sleep? Nothing rang a bell at the moment.

The metal bed was far from comfortable, but he hardly had a chance to notice, because he passed out. His body was exhausted from the labor of trying to cope with the pain he'd been in. His headache was nowhere near gone, but after Quinn came back and gave him another pill, he hardly noticed. She brought a single blanket and pillow, and the moment his head hit it (very gently) he was out. He dreamed of the old days; Six Flags with Bobby and Rogue, washing Xavier's cars, getting caught drinking, the stuff he used to have the leisure time to do. Where had those days gone in such a hurry?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Mephistopheles**

Over the following week, his concussion got consistently better, but the first few nights were hell. That first night, the pills had knocked him out. But after they started giving him smaller doses, sleeping at night became impossible. He naturally tossed and turned in his sleep, and every time he did, he would wake up in excruciating pain, and the nausea that followed. He couldn't keep any food down for at least three days, causing him to lose about ten pounds. Since he couldn't keep any water down, they were forced to put him on an IV drip to avoid dehydration. After the week was out, he was well enough to stand on his own for longer than a few seconds.

"You can't stay in here, we use these rooms to monitor the other injured inmates," Quinn said one afternoon as she examined his head wound.

He hated her saying that. _Inmates._ Like he was a prisoner. Well, at the moment he was, but as soon as the John-mobile was back up and running, he would change all that.

"So, where do I go now?" he asked, wincing as she pressed on the cut.

"Sorry. You'll be transferred to a regular cell," she said as she finished with his cut.

"And how long is my sentence? And what's my charge? Shouldn't I get a trial?" he fired off into questions.

"I don't know, I don't know, and no, you don't," she said, looking him in the eyes.

"Why not?" he said, sliding off the bed to stand face to face with her.

He wasn't the tallest guy around, but he had that rugged face, the one that intimidates people if you twist it just right. And damn, did he know how.

"There's no law protecting the civil rights of mutants. Yet. So until legislation is passed, you're stuck in a court loophole," she said, not intimidated in the least. She packed her few things into her black bag, and turned her back on him. "There will be men in here in a few moments to escort you to your new cell. Please don't give them any trouble."

"Now where would you have gotten that idea?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

She had seen security camera tapes from the incident at Alcatraz Island. She knew he was a troublemaker.

"Thanks," he said as she was exiting the door. "For, well, you know. Everything," he finished. He had never been too good at these kinds of things.

She smiled slightly, and closed the door behind her.

_Okay. Gotta think. I have to get out of here. I'm no prisoner. I shouldn't even be here. Maybe if they hadn't insulted the mutant community with that god-forsaken cure, I wouldn't have done any of the things I did._

He tried to think of ways to do it, but none of those could be done before these guys got him out of this room, so he patiently waited. They came quickly, and put him in handcuffs. They led him out of the room and down a dark hallway. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the light, but when they did he was stunned. He was walking down a hallway that seemed to go on forever, and the right-hand wall was made completely out of small jail-like cells. Each held four beds, bunk style, each with a person on it. The two men who had retrieved him from his previous cell walked him a pretty far way, and he had to ask them if he could sit down about halfway because he felt dizzy. They let him, but not for long.

Once to about three quarters of the way down the hall, the men stopped, and turned to a cell on the right. One pulled out an ID card, and swiped it through a reader to the left of the door. The reader clicked, and the door jumped open with a hydraulic _whizz_. The bigger of the men led John in and unlocked his cuffs.

"Behave yourself, you hear?" he said as he left.

"Fat chance," John replied.

"He wasn't talking to you," the second man said. He pointed a stubby finger to the top bunk on the right hand side and grinned.

John's gut twisted. _Great. Spooky cellmates. Just what I need._

John turned around to see the two bunks on the left empty, and the two on the right occupied. He sighed and flopped onto the lower bunk on the left. The person on the top bunk opposite him was obviously lying down, and at the angle he was at he couldn't see them. However, he could see the person on the lower bunk. He had his back turned to John, and was huddled close to the metal wall. There was something strange about him though; he was shaking and his breathing sounded labored.

"So what'd you do to get in here?" came a male voice from the top bunk.

"Arson, prostitution, indecent exposure, drunk in public, the usual," John replied, still appreciating his gift for all things sarcasm. The last three were obviously a joke.

A laugh issued from the upper bunk, and it chilled John to the bone. It had that wicked quality that actors get paid millions for to play villains in Hollywood. The guy leaned up onto his elbow, but he was still in shadow. There was one thing, however, that was undeniably noticeable. His eyes were very strange. There was black where there was supposed to be white, and the green iris glowed brightly. John furrowed his brow, and studied them.

"Wouldn't stare too long if I were you," the young-sounding man said, and threw himself off the bunk to land on his feet just in front of John.

John felt somewhat intimidated, so he stood. He studied his prey, noticing that he couldn't be any younger than himself. He was a little taller, with pitch-black hair that fell into his face in an untidy manner. His skin was deathly white, and he bore an eyebrow ring and ear gages.

"Why's that?" John asked.

"Cuz they could kill you," he stated matter-of-factly.

John had no reply, only a stunned look.

"Name's Mephistopheles," the boy said and held out his hand.

John shook it enthusiastically, adding his chosen name, "Pyro."

"Ah, I've heard of you," the boy said, leaning against the ladder he used to get up to his bunk.

"Really?" John asked, surprised.

"Yeah, you worked with that terrorist guy, Magneto," Mephistopheles said, picking at his fingernails.

"He's not a terrorist, he's a radical revolutionary," John said, proud of his obvious twist of the word terrorist.

"You mean 'was,' don't you?" Mephistopheles replied.

"Excuse me?" John asked, confused.

"You don't know?" Mephistopheles asked, looking taken aback.

"Know what?" John asked, sitting up straighter.

"Magneto. He was cured. He's human now. You really didn't know?" Mephistopheles said, raising an eyebrow.

John's heart jumped into his throat. _Oh my god, _he thought. _Magneto. Cured? It can't be. What'll I do now? I have now home, no affiliations of any kind. I can never go back to Xavier's._

"Yeah, that's actually the only reason he's alive. Since he couldn't fight anymore, he left the Island. And that crazy mutant killed almost everyone else on the Island," Mephistopheles continued.

"Jean," John said, his voice faltering in disbelief. "Her name is Jean Grey."

"Uh, dude, that one's a 'was' too," Mephistopheles said.

John looked up, and Mephistopheles dragged his hand across his neck in the typical cut-off-the-head motion.

_Shit._ He really was alone. Hopefully Callysto and Arclite were here somewhere. He decided to think about it some other time.

"So what's your other name?" John asked. He never asked 'what's your real name' because so many mutants considered their chosen alias as their real identity. Mystique had.

Mephistopheles thought about it for a moment, considering if he should tell.

"William Hamilton III, but everyone calls me Billy," he said. "And by everyone, I mean him," Billy said, tossing a finger to the other boy lying in the lower bunk.

"Who's 'him'?" John asked.

"His name's Dominic, he goes by Alchemy," Billy said, but his voice took a depressed tone.

"What?" John asked.

"He's sick," Billy said. "And not 'mom-I-need-some-Children's-Motrin' sick. They don't think he'll live past thirty."

"Jeez. Why?" John asked, watching the boy on the bunk shiver slightly in his sleep.

"Well, this facility is part of a bigger organization called the NSA. It's government funded. In essence, there's no laws protecting criminal mutants, so what they're doing is experimenting on them for military purposes," Billy said, twiddling his thumbs.

"Jesus Christ," John said, a new fear creeping up his throat. All the more reason to get out of here. Like, now.

"Yeah. I've never been there, I'm only stuck here, but he was. They actually abducted him when he was fourteen, and experimented on him until he got sick from it. He was there for four years. _Four years._ They keep him here to keep him silent. But basically, he's got a type of osteoporosis. It's called Chronic Osteodegenerative Syndrome. It's a little different, though. His bone marrow doesn't regenerate and form as quickly as it should, so they're really brittle. It also makes him kinda thin, so don't stare when he wakes up," Billy said.

"How did it happen?" John asked.

"Before he got sick his bones were almost unbreakable, that's why they were experimenting on them. They wanted to see if they could duplicate it and give it to our military. But they failed, and permanently damaged his bones," Billy replied.

"Was that his power?" John asked, wondering if he lost it when he got sick.

"No. He can create, manipulate, and destroy precious gems," Billy replied, smiling.

"Like, diamonds and stuff?" John asked, flabbergasted.

Billy didn't reply, instead he got up and retrieved something from his bunk. He took a seat next to John and held it out. It was a sculpture of a bat, about the size of a palm, but it was solid diamond.

"Holy hell," John said, and took the bat to examine it. "Then what made his bones so strong?" he asked, absentmindedly running his fingers over the smooth surface of the bat.

"They were laced with diamond, and you probably know diamond is the strongest substance know to man, with the exception of adamantium," Billy finished.

"Pretty sweet," John said, handing the Bat back to Billy.

"It would be if he still had that ability. When he got sick and his bones weakened, the diamond slowly disappeared," Billy said, and tossed the bat up to his bunk.

John was about to tell him not to throw it when he realized that thing was unbreakable.

"What about you, what's yours?" John asked. He already had a somewhat good idea from Billy's earlier statement, but he wanted to hear it from him.

"I'm a death wielder. I kill with my eyes," Billy said, sounding morose.

"Wow. I bet that was hard to get a handle on," John said.

"Yeah, it's why I'm in here. Multiple homicides. I didn't mean to, I just couldn't control it for the longest time. I don't really see how they can prove it was me, though. When I use it, nothing happens to them, not heart attack or anything. They just… stop living, " Billy replied.

"But you can control it now, right?" John asked, looking away from Billy.

"For the most part," he said. "Mine is a power that never sleeps, so I have to concentrate on controlling it twenty-four seven. So if I get really angry or something, I can loose control, but it hasn't happened in a long time."

"If I may, you didn't consider taking this cure? I mean, I hate the idea, but that's because I like my power," he said, disgusted to be asking such a question.

"I dunno," Billy responded, fidgeting. "I guess that one day I want to be able to protect my family or my friends if they're in trouble. I know death isn't something I should wield lightly, but if they have the nerve to bother one of _my _friends, they shouldn't be breeding. I would be doing the world a favor."

John giggled. "Sweet," he said.

"You wanna know the coolest part?" Billy said, sounding younger than he probably was.

"What?" John asked.

"That's not my only power. I can control the dead," Billy said, and waited for John's reply.

He thought he got it, but that would be a really creepy power, so he refused to believe it. Billy obviously saw this, so he continued explaining.

"I can raise the dead. They'll do whatever I want them to," Billy said, sounding proud.

"So, like… zombies?" John asked, almost disgusted.

"Yup," Billy said. "But they're just vessels. They're not the person they were in life."

John shivered at the thought. He was sure an awkward silence was to follow, but he was rescued by Dominic, who shifted, then sat up to look at John and Billy.

Billy had been right. The boy couldn't have weighed more than one-hundred and ten pounds. And it showed. He looked like a skeleton with flesh. His arms were incredibly thin, and his cheeks were slightly sunken. He had longer, straight black hair that fell to almost his shoulders. A few strands were in his face, but he didn't seem to care.

He raised an eyebrow at Billy, and he turned to John.

"Dom, this is…" he paused. "Pyro."

"John. John Allerdyce," he said, and leaned forward to shake the other boy's hand. He did this gently; afraid he would break it off.

The boy said nothing only swung his feet off his bed, and rubbed his sleepy eyes.

"Oh yeah, and another thing," Billy said, nudging John in the ribs. "He doesn't talk."

John looked back at Dominic, and the boy shrugged.

"Why?" John asked, not sure to whom he should direct his question.

"It's called terror silence," Billy answered. Dominic didn't seem to mind this conversation about him, so Billy continued. "It happens when you witness or experience something so traumatic that your body shuts something down to protect itself."

John nodded in understanding. _Jeez. This place just keeps getting worse._


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**Arrangement, Execution **

John was determined to get out of this place. And if he had to kill a few people to do so, so be it. However, this was not shared by Billy. In fact, even though his was the power of death, he hated the thought. He hated that he would be the reason some man would never bounce his happy grandchildren on his knee, or some woman would never say 'I Do.' He even shared that the faces of those he killed haunted him in his dreams. So John tried to devise a plan that would involve less brutal murders.

They concocted several plans, Billy helping, Dominic watching silently. Whenever they were taken out of the cell, for lunch or for whatever reason, they studied the facility. Doors, windows, air vents, anything that led to the outside. By a week, they had a pretty good map laid down of the layout of the building.

"How hot can you make a fire?" Billy asked one afternoon.

"Fucking hot," John replied. "Hotter than any natural fire can burn."

"Hot enough to melt those bars?" Billy replied. He was sitting cross-legged next to Dominic on the opposite lower bunk. Dom, as always, listened silently.

John got up to examine the metal bars on the front of the cell. He had once thrown a blaze at an enemy so hot that it had completely obliterated the man before even a speck of blood hit the floor.

"Yeah, probably," John said. "But we still have no way to create a spark."

Billy thought for a moment, and Dom stared up at the ceiling. John thought of any way to even create the tiniest flare. That's all he needed. Maybe grinding metal against metal? No, they had nothing of the sort. Everything metal was attached to the walls. And last he checked they had no sticks to rub together.

Dominic nudged Billy with an elbow, which got both his and John's attention. As they looked at him, he pointed to the single sixty-watt light bulb hanging in the center of the ceiling. Both of them were confused for a moment, when the idea Dom was probably thinking, came to John.

"Of course," he said, and crawled onto the vacant bunk above him. "What happens when a light bulb has been on for a long time?"

"It goes out right when you need it most?" Billy replied, obviously knowing what John meant, but deciding to answer sarcastically. A kindred spirit.

"Maybe if we break it and try to use the hot glass to ignite some fabric, or maybe some paper," John began, examining the bulb.

The filament inside it was bronzing, which meant it was an old bulb. Perfect. But he couldn't run into this one balls first and go for it. Everything had to be perfect.

"Well, we can't do it at night since they turn off the lights, and it'll cool. That makes this that much tougher to pull off," John said, looking down at the other two.

Billy and Dominic nodded in agreement.

"I think maybe after lunch would be the best time," Billy replied. "Cuz I've noticed that they switch out the guards after everyone's back in their cells so they can have their lunch break."

"That's a good start," John began. "But we don't want to do it as their switching out, because then there would be twice as many. Maybe after the new guys are stationed, but not really ready. I mean, these guys are always ready, but maybe we can catch 'em off guard."

Billy nodded, "And what are you gunna try to ignite?"

"I think I'm gunna rip up a pillow and use the cotton on the inside. It's more flammable than fabric," he said, examining the fabric. "Once we're in the mess hall, I think a window will be our best bet. If we try for a door, they'll have time to reinforce them. I know there are bars on them, but it shouldn't take long to melt them. But you guys be sure to stand back, cuz that molten metal will take your skin right off."

The other two nodded. John thought through the process, making sure there were no kinks. They had one shot at this, and there was absolutely no room for error. The windows were small, with only room for one person at a time. So there'd be hand to hand fighting with the guards that approached in time. But, he'd already discussed that with Billy and Dom, and they agreed that they would be okay for a few minutes. Well, Billy did and Dom nodded. Billy, however, said that he refused to kill anyone. That put a damper on it, but whatever blew Billy's skirt up. As long as they got out.

"Once I get the window open, I think Dom should go first, cuz, no offense, but I think Billy and I would be a little better off in a fist fight than you," he said to Dom.

Dominic shrugged, knowing it was the truth.

"And then once we're in the yard, I'll burn down a portion of the fencing, and you run like hell, okay?" John finished, raising an eyebrow at them.

They nodded. "But John," Billy said, "just a thought… they know the area, and we don't. Don't you think they'll be able to find us pretty easily? Not to mention these guys are like, bouncer size, and not to be a party pooper or anything, but we're not exactly bodybuilders."

John sighed. Billy was right. These guys knew where they would most likely run to, and they'd probably be able to catch up to them pretty fast.

"Well, we'll just have to wing it," John said, and the other two boy's faces sunk. "It's better than not trying at all."

So the three of them waited until just after lunch a few days later to execute the plan. Escorted back to the cell, the three of them sat promptly on the lower beds, and waited for their guards to walk away. They waited a few more minutes to make sure all the other inmates were securely in their cells, and the guards were stationed at each end of the hallway, waiting for their replacements.

"Here we go," John said.

He picked up his sham-less pillow, and tore at the seam, like opening a bag of potato chips. It opened right up.

"Perfect," he whispered, and grabbed a handful of the dry material. "Billy, hand me that diamond bat."

John was sitting on the upper bunk, staring at the light bulb.

"Here you go," Billy said as he placed the bat in John's outstretched hand.

"Thanks," he said, and leaned out as far as he could without falling off. He looked out of the cell one last time to make sure no one was near, then swung the bat at the bulb.

It shattered and rained down like confetti. John leaped off the bunk, and pressed the cotton fibers to the hot glass. But nothing was happening.

"Shit," he said under his breath, and blew on it gently.

The tips of the cotton began to shrivel and smoke a bit, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find a spark to ignite. "Shit," he repeated.

"Try the filament," Billy said urgently.

John hurried back onto the upper bunk and held out the cotton to the dangling filament of the broken bulb. The cotton continued to shrivel, but it didn't ignite.

"Damn it," he practically yelled in frustration and threw the remains of the cotton to the ground. They had that one bulb, and they had failed. John considered trying again once they had replaced the bulb, when a loud "hey" issued from the hall outside.

The three of them whipped around to see one of the guards standing with his hand on his nightstick.

"What do you think you're doin'?" the large man said, and stepped forward to look inside. The look on his face told them he knew John's power, and he knew what he'd been trying to do.

"Oh no you don't," the man said, and whipped out an ID card and passed it through the reader. "You're comin' with me."

John figured fighting the man would be a pointless waste of energy, so he let him grab his upper arm, none too gently, and practically drag him out of the cell.

When they reached the end of the hallway, the one where his earlier cell had been, they almost ran into someone who was coming around the corner.

It was Dr. Fallon.

"Where exactly are you going with him?" she asked, straightening out her white slacks.

"Solitary. He was trying to start a fire," the man who resembled the Arm 'n' Hammer guy responded.

Quincy raised an eyebrow at John, as if to ask 'is that true,' then let them pass. John barely had time to look at her as Arm 'n' Hammer dragged him down another, shorter hallway. This one was dark, too. Very dark. So he hardly noticed when he was thrown into a small room, whose back wall made a nice loud sound when colliding with his body.

"Um, ow," he said sarcastically, and turned around to see the man shut the door to the room.

_Great,_ he thought. _Now what?_ There was definitely nothing flammable in this room; there wasn't even a bed.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**The Alchemist**

John wasn't sure of the amount of time that passed since he'd been thrown into solitary by Arm 'N' Hammer. He supposed he could have counted the number of meals he'd had, but he didn't find the task worth the effort. For the most part, he succumbed to complete and utter boredom, finding only minimal amusement in slapping the hand of the person who shoved his meals through a small, mailbox-like compartment.

One such boring day, John was leaning against the back wall of his cell, pondering the meaning of life, when the silence was broken. And not by random flatulents. He could barely make out the sound of yelling, lots of yelling. The yelling grew fainter, as if whoever was screaming was getting farther away. Curious, he stood and walked to the door, listening. Not seconds later the sounds of alarms could be heard ripping through the dark silence.

John grinned, hoping like hell that someone was giving these bastards a hard time. But he didn't expect it would last long. The security at this place was unbelievable. He figured he was one of the few people who could slip past them, and even then, he would need a flame. He sighed, resolving himself to leaning against the wall and listening to the chaos.

A minute passed, and then another. The tumult outside did not quiet. On the contrary, it seemed to be growing louder. John stood to walk toward the door, but stopped at that selfsame moment. An incredibly loud, high-pitched screeching met his ears, and he threw his hands up to dim the sound. But it was what accompanied the sound that surprised him even more.

Some kind of thin, sharp cone was drilling its way through the locking mechanism on the door in front of him. But what was strange about the object was its color; it was a clear, prismatic cone, which was circulating through the metal door like a newly sharpened drill through old wood. The door barely managed a creak as the lock snapped, and the hinges moaned as all the excess weight was placed on them. Someone pushed it open.

John strained to see, since his eyes were adjusted to the darkness of the room, not the white light pouring in. What he saw when he was capable astounded him. It was Dominic, and protruding from each palm was a long, at least three foot scythe-like cone of what seemed to be pure diamond. John smiled wide, and leapt for the door. Just as he was about to ask where Billy was, the dark boy appeared from just behind Dominic.

"Hey John. What's the size of your hand, has pointy teeth, and causes mass destruction?" Billy said, grinning.

"I have no goddamn clue," John said, annoyed at the joke when they needed to be manning the lifeboats.

"Your lighter!" Billy said, tossing John's wrist-formatted igniter to him. The shark image which had previously been on his favorite Zippo lighter was baring its teeth in what seemed like anticipation.

John fastened it around his wrist, grinning wide. "Let's rock 'n' roll," he said, and the three of them turned into the hallway, John groping a newly brandished flame, and Dominic wielding his diamond scythes. The three of them walked side by side, the sound of their footsteps lost amongst the alarms and yelling of guards.

The first person to approach them was Arm 'N' Hammer. More guards were pouring in the doors, and the sight reminded him of how Alkali Dam had looked when it collapsed. Ironically, this situation would end the same way; mass destruction and a narrow escape. John grinned to himself as the three of them closed the gap between themselves and the lone guard.

Before either Billy or Dominic could act, John raised his hand, a tiny _click_ sounding as his igniter sparked. He smiled wider, channeling his inner sarcasm.

"Get some!" he yelled as he threw a blistering inferno at Arm 'N' Hammer. He couldn't see the man through the blaze, but the screaming told him he'd hit home. As the flames died down, he could see the man frantically batting at his burning clothing, yelling and thrashing. Several guards who had just entered branched off to help him, while the rest, which was about fifteen, stormed toward the three of them.

Dominic held his hands straight out and the previously three foot scythes on his palms reduced to a few inches. Within seconds, he began rapidly firing them from his palms, which immediately formed new spikes. John barely took the time to stare as the diamond spikes took down guard after guard. He raised his hand again and threw a wall of fire so intense that Billy and Dominic stepped back a few paces to avoid being blistered. At least six more men fell to the ground, batting at their blazing garments. However, the supply of guards wasn't diminishing as quickly as he'd hoped. They seemed to keep pouring in the door faster than they were falling. John hadn't expected their reaction time to be that quick.

"Billy! We've gotta barricade that door!" he yelled in the direction of the boy. Billy refused to use his power against these people, so he had retrieved a nightstick from the downed body of a guard, and was battering his way through the men in front of him.

"But how will we get out?" Billy yelled as he delivered a tough strike to the chest of a black-clad guard.

"We'll have to take out one of those windows! There's no way we're getting out that door if they keep pouring in like this," he said as he threw more red-hot flames at five or so men. Billy nodded, and kept fighting. John peered up at the windows, which were set in the walls about ten feet up, and then guarded with iron bars. He'd make quick work of those. John's attention, however, was suddenly drawn to the skinny figure of Dominic utilizing the cover of the smoke created by John's flames to weave toward the door. John figured it was only a matter of time before the guards noticed the frail boy weaving toward the door, so he decided to give them something else to concentrate on.

"Let there be LIGHT!" he yelled happily, standing like Jesus parting the red sea, and increased his flames so much that they threatened to swallow the giant room whole. As the guards reeled back from the blaze, hands thrown over their faces, John turned toward the line of cells lining the wall to his right. He snaked several smaller streamers from his giant blaze toward the fronts of the cells. He immediately went to work on destroying the hydraulic system that held them closed. The more help they had, the better off they'd be.

He noticed through the flames and smoke that Dominic had reached the door and managed to slam it shut. To keep it that way, he was skewering it with diamond nails.

John's attention was drawn back as he heard a loud hissing and a resounding _pop_ as the boiling hydraulic fluid in the doors caused them to blast from their hinges. Mutants immediately streamed out, using all manner of powers to subdue the remaining guards.

_Okay,_ he thought. _We just might pull this off._

His momentary lapse in concentration proved to be very damaging as the plastic nightstick of one of the guards slammed into his ribs, causing him to choke and grasp at his chest. As he fell to the ground, completely winded, his flames fizzled and died. He tried to regain his composure as quickly as possible, but realized it was too late as the man standing over him raised his nightstick again. John braced himself for the impact.

"Hey!" he heard someone yell, and the man over him looked up toward whoever had yelled. Bad idea. As the man's gaze met his prey, he barely choked, grabbed at his chest, then toppled over forward, not breathing.

John looked up and to his right to see the eyes that had killed his attacker. "Thanks!" he yelled, and Billy merely nodded, a displeased look on his face. But that would have to wait.

John leapt to his feet, his ribcage screaming in protest. He ignored the pain and peered around. Most of the guards were subdued, and those that weren't were quickly surrendering out of fear for their own lives. John sprinted to the opposite wall, and examined the window above him. Without waiting, he threw a white-hot blaze at the bars in front of the glass.

"Stand back!" he said to the people nearest him as the metal began to melt and fall in smoldering droplets down the wall. In under a minute, the bars had been reduced to a smoking puddle in front of the people standing there.

"That's probably bullet-proof, huh?" John said, motioning to the glass window.

Before he even got an answer, a sparkling missile whizzed past him and impaled itself in the window, causing the glass to shatter outward like a spider web.

"Probably," Billy said, approaching him, "but no glass is stronger than diamond."

John turned to see Dominic approaching, closely followed by several escaped mutants. He jumped as the sound of charges exploded on the other side of the barricaded door. The diamond held firm, but the metal door groaned and leaned inward.

Without wasting any more time, he turned to Billy. "Give me a hand," he said.

Billy locked his fingers together at knee height, and hoisted John upward, where he slammed a fist through the glass. It gave way, and collapsed in tiny shards out the window. John heaved himself out, and dropped the ten feet to the ground outside.

He turned back to see Dominic slipping through the window next. The frail boy landed on his feet, but the impact caused him to topple over backward.

"Whoa, you alright?" John half-laughed as he helped him up. Dominic did not look amused.

Next came Billy, followed by more escaped mutants. John whirled around and made to start running toward the fenced-in border of the property. He and the others hadn't gone more than ten feet when more guards sprinted from around the side of the building, blocking their way. They were all clad in black, and they each carried a long rifle-looking gun.

_Shit,_ John thought. He didn't know if those guns had cure bullets in them, and he wasn't willing to find out. He froze, as did the others.

"That's quite far enough!" yelled one of the guards, raising his gun to eye height.

John chanced a look over at Billy and Dom, who both looked thoroughly out of ideas. John was sure he could take out most of the guards with a hearty blast, but on the off chance one of them fired before he attacked, it could be lights out for his ability.

"Just toss us that lighter, and nobody gets hurt," the guard said, still aiming straight at John. He was pretty sure why most of them would be aiming straight at him. He was positive that he was the only level four mutant here, and he would be the first they'd take down if surrender didn't happen. John just thought for a moment.

"Come on now, let's not be rash," the man said again, motioning for John's lighter.

John sighed, about to give in. He paused with his fingers on the Velcro of the igniter as one of the escaped mutants stepped forward. It was younger man, probably twenty-four or twenty-five. His unkempt deep auburn hair fell into his face as he licked his lips.

"Lance! Don't do something stupid!" the guard yelled, aiming at the man.

Before anyone had a chance to fire, the man, apparently named Lance, knelt and slammed a fist into the cool dirt. John barely had time to wonder what the hell he was doing when the earth beneath them quaked, throwing off most of the surrounding people's balance. Moments later, the earth split like paper, opening a chasm that crawled straight toward the guards. They attempted to jump away, but some of them slipped in, falling and frantically grasping at the ground above. John didn't stick around to see if they got out.

He and most of the other mutants made a b-line for the fence, which was now leaning because of the ground shift that had just occurred. Steering clear of the Lance-canyon, he approached the chain link fence, which was bordered at the top by three lines of barbed wire. This was where Magneto would have come in _really_ handy. But then again, they wouldn't even be in this predicament if he were with them.

John went to ignite a flame that he could use to melt the fence when Dominic stepped forward, procured another diamond knife, and sliced straight through the chain fence.

John stared for a moment as a few other escapees bolted out the opening.

"Thanks," he said, and Dominic shrugged. He allowed Dominic to go first, then Billy, then crawled through the opening himself. He looked around at the dense trees that escaped mutants were now weaving through toward freedom. Most of the escaped inmates went their separate ways, not sticking around to find out where they were. Hell, John didn't even know what to do. He had no idea where he was, or which direction he should even go. But, he figured 'away from this place' was a good direction, so he started running into the forest, trying to maintain a straight line so as not to double back. The forest didn't last long, and the few of them stumbled upon a two-lane road. John sighed, smoothed his ruffled clothing, resolved himself to following the road. He stayed near the trees, in case any of those NSA employees came looking. Billy and Dom seemed content with following quietly. Was he the new Magneto?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

**Sidetracking**

After a good half-hour's walk, the road led to a small town, comprised of a simple corner store, a gas station, and a few residential homes. John told everyone to stay outside and stay hidden as he went into the gas station to find out exactly where the hell they were. Dr. Fallon had said 'upstate San Fran,' but that could be anywhere. So he received some good directions from the cashier, and lifted a map so he knew where exactly in upstate San Francisco they were.

He returned to his companions outside, studied the map for five minutes, only to realize that he was still just as lost as ever. Magneto had brought them here to attack Alcatraz Island, and even then, he had just followed the billowing trench coat. He had never even been to California before, much less the densely populated San Francisco area.

He decided that he just needed to put distance between them and the NSA base, so he peered back down at the map. They needed to get onto mainland California, and since the Golden Gate Bridge had been destroyed by Magneto, it seemed that the Bay Bridge just east of San Fran seemed like a good bet. However, the NSA had probably already alerted the Bridge operators of the loose criminals, so even the bridges would be risky. But for now, it was their only option. John peered up at the sun, wondering what time it was.

"Anybody got a watch?" he asked, shading his eyes.

Everyone shrugged. "Shit," he said under his breath, studying the sun again. It couldn't have been past noon yet, so he decided to just start walking. He stayed close to Interstate 80, which would lead them to the Bay Bridge. They had to stay hidden, however, because they never knew who could be in the passing cars. It only took a few hours to close the gap between them and the bridge, the sun beating down on them all the while. The three of them stood somewhat hidden by a streetlamp as they examined the bridge. And, not to John's surprise, there were cops lining the base of the bridge.

"Fuck me sideways," he cursed, and Billy giggled at him.

"Now what?" Billy asked.

"I dunno," John replied, thinking. They might be able to barter their way onto a truck if any of them had any money. But alas, they were stone cold broke. The cops most likely had pictures of them, so trying to walk inconspicuously past them probably wouldn't work. John hissed in frustration.

Billy grunted as Dominic nudged him and pointed down the shore a ways to a ferry that was loading up with cars. Billy turned back to glare questioningly at John.

"Well, it's a shot," John said, and the three of them snuck away from the bridge toward the loading dock of the ferry. It was probably for those too anxious to wait in the traffic of the Bay Bridge.

The rear tailgate of the ferry was down, and people were slowly driving their precious cars onto the deck while a ferry employee ushered them forward. John watched for a second, looking for any gap in their system.

_There,_ John thought. As one car drove onto the deck, the usher turned to tell the person where to park their car. If they were silent, they might be able to sneak on behind him.

"Okay," he said, turning to the two waiting boys behind him. "While he's telling people where to park, we may be able to sneak on. We just have to be quiet. Follow me."

John wasn't sure where this leader attitude came from, but somehow it felt right. So, as another small green Acura pulled up and the usher approached the driver's window, John scurried forward. He peered around to make sure no one else would see, and he noticed another usher talking to the next person in line. _Perfect._

While the usher on the boat's deck was pointing to an open spot, John darted behind him, Billy and Dom following closely, crouched low and heads bowed. The three of them leapt behind a large Toyota Tundra, flattening themselves against the grill as the usher turned around to face the next car. John breathed a sigh of relief at the other two and grinned in accomplishment.

For another twenty minutes, a plethora of cars were loaded onto the ferry, and the three stowaways stayed hunched by the truck until the boat shuddered as its propellers began to spin. The owners of the cars parked, locked the doors, and walked to a portion of the boat that was covered, and provided refreshments. The usher barely looked over the deck, and left for the indoor portion of the boat.

It only took fifteen minutes to traverse the distance of the San Francisco Bay. The boat docked slowly, and the tailgate dropped. People began to pour onto the deck toward their cars.

"_Shit,"_ John breathed as a bald man made his way toward the truck they were hiding behind. "Into the bed!"

The three of them flung themselves into the bed of the truck and flattened themselves against the walls. Thankfully, the bald man was rather short, so his eyes barely cleared the tops of the bed. He jumped into his seat, shoved his key into the ignition, and started the great truck. It shuddered, and the three boys waited as several other cars unloaded before the truck. The man backed his car out, and backed it off to the right so he could turn around. John motioned to his companions, and they all leapt out the back of the truck.

John didn't even turn around to see if the man had noticed the jarring of his vehicle at their exit. They merely ran as fast as they could away from the dock and toward a cluster of buildings. Once hidden in a large alley filled with dumpsters, they stopped to catch their breath.

"Now what?" Billy asked.

"Well," he began. "You got a home somewhere?"

Billy bowed his head. "Not that I want to go back to," he said solemnly and looked back up. "My parents thought I was some kind of demon," he said, motioning to his bizarre eyes.

John looked at Dominic, who nodded a slow "no."

"Alright, then I need a phone," John said. The camp Magneto had set up was located in New York, so they couldn't get there easily. John sighed, remembering how easy it had been for Magneto to hijack a plane and fly them all to San Fran.

John peered around until his eyes fell on a gas station, which bore a pay phone to the right of the door.

"Let's try that," he said, pointing to it.

"Uh, sorry to burst your bubble, but we don't have any money," Billy said, and John ignored him while they approached the pay phone.

"Have faith in the American civilian," John said sarcastically as a businesswoman walked out of the front doors of the gas station. John broke off from the other two boys and approached her, making sure to seem unthreatening.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he said, channeling the politeness of his old friend Bobby. "I don't suppose you could spare a few quarters, I need to make a phone call, and I don't have any change."

The woman examined him for a second, then sighed. "I guess," she said, and reached into her purse to retrieve a coin bag. She reached inside, and handed him three quarters. _Three minutes. _That would have to do.

"Oh, thank you, ma'am. You have a great day," John said, the politeness almost making him nauseous.

She barely muttered an "uh huh," as she turned toward her car.

John returned to the other boys, who were smiling greatly at his show of courtesy.

"Oh fuck off, both of you," he said, and reached into the pocket of his slacks. Only then did he realize that he must have stunk to high heaven and looked like he'd just indulged in a manure pit. That lady had probably thought he wanted her change for drugs. He almost laughed. He pulled a small piece of ripped paper from the pocket of his pants, which had a phone number awkwardly scribbled on it.

Peering down at it, John remembered when he'd received it. Magneto had been lounging in his tent back at the camp in New York. He had torn a piece of paper from a notebook he'd been keeping notes in. He liked to stay informed, and any information that was helpful, he wrote in that spiral. He'd jotted a phone number, and handed it to John. The only thing he'd said was "in case you're ever in need of backup."

He hadn't known why the hell he'd ever need "backup" at the time, but it was quite obvious now.

He inserted the three quarters, dialed, and waited. It rang several times before the electronic _click_ sounded as someone picked up.

"Oui?" an evidently French male voice said.

"Uh," John began, hoping this person spoke English. "Hi. Is this a…" he looked down at the name scribbled below the number, "Remy LeBeau?"

"Oui, monsieur, what can I do ya for?"

* * *

Ok, just for the record, I wrote this long before Origins: Wolvering came out. However, if you consider the timeline (say, if Gambit was around 20 in Origins) that would make him mid-late thirties here. So yah...


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry this one's so short. I'll update soon to make up for it :-]

**

* * *

****Chapter 6**

**An Equitable Solution**

"We need to get to Louisiana," John said after hanging up. This Remy guy sounded like he had a lot of answers, and all they had was a steadily growing mountain of questions. But now one of those monumental questions was: how would they get there? John started to think quietly, but was shook from his thoughts as Dominic grabbed the map from his front pocket.

The silent boy opened the map, and studied it for a few seconds, John and Billy watching curiously. After a minute or so, Dominic handed the map back, and motioned for them to follow him. He started walking away from the gas station. Billy looked at John, who shrugged, and they decided to follow.

Dominic walked for about ten minutes, when they stumbled upon a pawnshop.

"We are NOT robbing a pawn shop," John said, knowing full well that robbing a place would only bring unwanted attention.

Dominic turned and slapped John on the side of the head, which thoroughly surprised him. The boy then raised a hand, which bore a good-sized ruby.

"Oh, gotcha," John said, smoothing his hair. But this begged the question, how much money would they get from a pawnshop? A jewelry retailer would pay quite a bit more, but the three of them, dressed as they were, would be pretty conspicuous walking into a jewelry store. John was reminded of the scene from Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts tried to buy a dress dressed as a hooker. Good times.

Dominic formed several more precious gems, the process still astounding John, and handed them to John. Why did he have to do it?

He entered the store, and headed straight for the front desk, where a teenaged clerk stood, picking her teeth. She was rather short, and was dressed very oddly. She wore a black bustier, a short black skirt, and fishnets. Her head was shaved short, and a bright purple Mohawk stood six inches on the top of her head. Ah, the lower class. John felt right at home.

He spread the jewels on the countertop.

"Some of my grandma's old shit. How much can I get for 'em?" he said, and the girl's eyes lit up at the sight of the gems.

"Uh, hold on," she said and turned to lean through a maroon curtain and yell "Horst!"

_Huh,_ John thought, in silent appreciation for his own name. _Horst._

A short, Hispanic-looking man stepped out of the curtain, chastised the girl for yelling at him, and approached the counter. He examined the gems, one by one, taking time to make sure they were real. John was beginning to become anxious when the man set them all down and said, "seven hundred for the lot of 'em."

John sighed. He'd been hoping for considerably more, but that would have to do.

"Done," he said simply, and the girl punched in some numbers on the cash register and handed him six hundred-dollar bills, and two fifties, at his specification. He took the bills graciously, then turned to the girl.

"You know where I can find a train station around here?" he asked, pocketing the bills.

The girl proceeded to direct him to a train station located in Alameda that would take him as far as Southern California, but then he would have to find another. He thanked the two of them, and walked back outside, where he found Billy and Dom, both with unlit cigarettes in their lips.

"Where'd you get those?" he asked, rearranging his shirt.

"Bummed 'em off some guy," Billy said, brushing a hand through his black hair. "Got a light?" he asked sarcastically.

Without realizing it, he flashed back to that day at the Museum of Natural History in New York. Some high school aged, testosterone fueled boy had asked him for a light. And in an equally testosterone filled move, he'd toasted the kid's cig, as well as his lips and fingers. Those were simpler days, and John couldn't help but wonder where they'd gone in such a hurry.

He brandished his igniter, flicking his wrist in the typical motion that created the spark. With a simple thought, the spark grew to a lighter-sized flame, which he held under both boys' cigarettes.

Billy took a long drag, reveling in the taste. John had never been one for smoking, since smoke meant nothing to him. But the scent never bothered him; on the contrary, he actually kind of liked it.

"How much d'you get?" Billy asked, blowing out a breath of smoke.

"Seven hundred. Not enough for plane tickets, but we might be able to get train tickets. Granted, it'll be slow travel, but it's better than walking," he said.

The feds were probably watching the airports, and none of them were old enough to rent a car, so he figured a train would probably be their best bet. He again looked at his map, and Alameda wasn't too far. He explained what the girl in the pawnshop had said, and the three of them began walking. The sun was nearing the horizon, and he knew they'd have to walk briskly if they were to make it there before sundown.

When they finally reached the station at 9:00 that night, the temperature had dropped quite a bit. John had never been one for cold.

"It's frickin freezing out here, Mr Biggelsworth," he said, rubbing his arms as he entered the revolving door of the station. Billy laughed, and he thought he barely made out a giggle from Dominic, but it could have been the wind.

He approached the ticket counter, and in some stroke of luck, they had enough for three tickets to SoCal. Their train left at 6:30 the next morning, so the boys resorted to finding a comfy spot on some benches, and tried to doze.

Billy and Dom seemed to get some sleep, but John's mind refused to shut down. He was so confused. What was he going to do now? He'd get some answers from this Remy guy, but what next? He could never go back to Xavier's; his pride wouldn't allow it. He had no home; that had burned down long ago, and he had no friends besides those he'd made in Magneto's brotherhood, and he didn't even know if they were alive. What would he do? Would he create a new brotherhood? Would he follow in Magneto's footprints, or would he let this human vs. mutant war fizzle out? He was lost, completely and utterly. He tried to turn over and sleep, but it wouldn't come.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

**The City That Never Sleeps**

After several days of train rides, pawning off gems, and more train rides, the three exhausted boys ended up in New Orleans, Louisiana. When on the phone, he'd written down an address, and that's where they were headed. The air was dense with humidity, and warm as hell. The streets bustled with friendly people, and the smells of good old Cajun cuisine permeated the air. They had used the last of their money on their most recent train ticket, and they were thoroughly famished. No pawnshops were to be found, so they resulted to searching for this Remy person, and hoping he had food.

It was about noon when they finally located the address, and John was disappointed at what they saw. They had ended up in a Marina, standing in front of a mega-yacht. It was a beast, to put it nicely; the boat was at least three stories, probably more, and over one hundred feet long. On the front of the boat was the name S.S. Dauphine, written in script. She tipped and rocked elegantly on the tiny waves beating against her hull.

"Hello?" John called as he approached a small bridge that led onto the boat.

The three of them walked to the back of the boat, where they began to hear voices. John walked up the bridge a bit, calling a loud "hello" again. He looked to the back of the boat and spotted what he hoped was Remy Lebeau.

It was an incredibly well toned man, lounging in a chair, with two women on either side of him. Remy himself was wearing a form-fitted outfit made of some kind of leather, with a long brown trench coat that fell from the chair to his ankles. The women, on the other hand, were clad in very tiny bikinis, sipping on some kind of chilled drinks.

Remy looked up at John, then got up, the women watching his every move.

"You must be John," he said in a heavy Cajun accent.

John reached out and shook his hand. "That I am," he said, beckoning to Dominic and Billy, and in turn, introducing them.

Remy turned away from them for a moment and beckoned to the women. They rose, and approached him, making sure to put their hands all over him.

"Ladies," he said, in a voice that screamed 'lady-killer.' "Jo Ellen, Scarlet, we'll have to continue this some other time. I've got company. But, please," he stated, caressing the cheek of one of the women, "hold that thought."

The both of them giggled as they left, waving graciously at their host. He smiled as they walked away from the dock, their incredibly high heels clicking on the wood.

John grinned. "Thanks for having us," he said.

"Not a problem, my friend," he said and approached them.

Only then did John notice that his eyes were very similar to Billy's; they were all black, except that the iris was a deep, threatening red.

"I was wondering…" John began, but Remy held up a hand, halting his statement.

"I've always been a blunt man. Now's no exception. Ya'll smell like shit and I'd bet you haven't eaten in God knows when. Why don't you come on in, have a shower and a meal, and then we'll talk," Remy said, fumbling with a cigar he pulled from a pocket.

John looked at the other two, then turned back. "Sounds like a plan," he said, and followed as Remy led them inside the yacht.

The three of them were each led to their own stateroom. John walked inside his, ogling over the queen sized bed and large closet. He checked the closet, and sure enough, he found some slacks and a t-shirt. He wasn't sure they would fit, and they definitely weren't his style, but it was better than his God-awful body odor drenched clothes.

He went straight for the shower, making it extra hot to see if it would wake him up from this nightmare. No such luck. But he did notice a nicely formed bruise on his chest where the guard at the IFCM had hit him.

After thoroughly steaming up the bathroom, he dressed, and went to the outer deck again to find Remy sitting with Dominic. Dom had obviously also found some clothes, which were incredibly big on his slender frame.

"Intriguing person, your friend here," Remy said, jutting a finger at Dom.

John had a hard time deciphering how exactly a silent person was intriguing, but the thought was dropped at the smell of food.

"Got some crawfish boiling, and when your other friend, uh Billy, was it? Yeah, when he gets up here, we'll talk."

John nodded, not used to such hospitality. "If you don't mind my asking, how do you, um," John paused, searching for non-offensive wording.

"Afford all this?" Remy finished for him.

"Yeah."

"You want the truth?" Remy said, and without waiting for an answer, said, "steal it."

John raised an eyebrow. Whatever worked.

Just then, Billy came up a pair of stairs that led to the staterooms below deck, equally attired as the other two.

The three of them followed Remy inside, where he brandished a giant pot of crawfish, and set it on a table. He gave them all a heaping pile, and they all stared.

"Aw, don't tell me you've never eaten crawfish?" he said pityingly, then leaned down to teach them how to remove the shells. It was a lot like eating shrimp, but a little bit more complicated. They all polished off quite a bit; even the skinny Dominic.

"Now," Remy said, taking a sip of what looked like brandy or rum. "What was it that you wanted to talk about?"

John tried to organize his thoughts. "Well, I really don't know exactly. Magneto gave me your number 'in case I ever need backup'," he said, making air quotes. "And, well. I'm not sure if I need backup or just help."

Remy smiled. "You obviously needed a meal and a place to stay. Tell me, why exactly are you here, though, instead of with him?"

"So you haven't seen?" John asked, figuring this guy spent more time with the ladies than the news. "Magneto was cured. Not by choice, mind you. Those people are using the cure as a weapon against us."

Remy seemed thoroughly stunned. "Magneto, cured?" he stammered.

That had been John's reaction exactly.

"Jesus. Never thought _that_ would happen," Remy said, lighting up another cigar.

"And I'm kind of lost on what to do now. I mean, I really have nowhere to go. Neither do they," he finished, pointing to Billy and Dom.

"Did you believe in Magneto's cause?" Remy asked, puffing some smoke.

"Of course. Otherwise I would have stayed with Xavier," John said.

Remy seemed to size him up for a minute, calculating. "Then carry it on without him."

"I don't know if I can do that. I don't have a home. Most of the people that followed him were killed on Alcatraz or fled, and I don't have nearly the resources he had," John replied, only then realizing exactly how helpless he was.

Remy thought for a moment. "I think I might have an answer for you."

John raised an eyebrow, and the other two boys leaned forward to hear him out.

"I know of a girl, 'bout your age actually, that might know of some people that could help you out. Lives in Florida. She's got some connections; some people that could give you a place to stay, get organized. I suppose I could take you there m'self," Remy said, taking another drag of his cigar.

"Well, that would be great, but we don't have anything to pay you with," John began, but got a raised eyebrow from Dominic.

"Did I ask for money?" Remy said, standing and replenishing his deadened supply of alcohol.

John sat in silence, not knowing what to say.

"Let's just say, I've been in your predicament once or twice, and I'd hate for ya'll to be without options. So what d'ya say?" Remy said, taking a swig of his drink.

John smiled. "Hells yes."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

**A Distant Home**

John groaned as a sliver of light made its way through the drawn curtains and plagued his sleepy eyes. The queen-sized bed was rocking slightly, reminding him that he was still on the boat. He groaned again, and stretched his arms, wondering what time it was, but a stinging pain in his side made him pause. Sitting up and pushing the covers down, he noticed the small bruise had grown quite a bit in size and color, and it was much more sensitive. He sighed, and heaved his legs over the side of the bed, peering at the neon-lit clock on the bedside table.

_12:32!_ He had expected to wake up early, but he supposed he hadn't gotten a good night's sleep in a long time. He hurriedly rushed around to gather his new clothes and put them on, hoping to be able to wash his own soon. Instinctively, he threw on his igniter, fastening it tightly around his wrist.

As he opened the door to his stateroom, he immediately noticed two things. One, Billy's and Dominic's doors were still closed, which meant they were still asleep, and two; the distant sound of loud music could be heard wafting from the direction of the stairs. He shuffled down the short hallway and up the stairs, which left him standing on the outer deck, the warm sea air blowing through his short, slicked back (but slightly bed-ridden) hair.

He also noticed that they were no longer docked, but sailing. He peered backwards, to barely make out the shore of New Orleans shrinking steadily on the horizon. The music had become louder, and John distinctly made out the recognizable sound of Credence Clearwater Revival's "Have You Ever Seen The Rain." John basked in the sound for a second. _Ah, the classics._

He walked around toward the back of the deck, where a ladder led up to the pilothouse, which was where the music was coming from. Once at the top, he almost laughed at what he saw.

Remy was standing at the controls, shirtless, cigar hanging from his lips, singing his heart out to CCR's ballad. Remy noticed John's entrance, but didn't even quiet his serenade until the last notes of piano and drums died. He reached over to what looked like a built in computer, and paused the music.

"Mornin' sleepin' beauty," he said, puffing some cigar smoke from his scruffy lips.

John merely managed a small smile, rubbing his still sleepy eyes. "We headed to Florida?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

"Yessir," Remy replied, pointing to a built-in GPS. "Left about twenty minutes ago. Figured ya'll needed the sleep, so I went into town and got everything we'd need. When I came back, and you were still asleep, I figured I'd set off. Not a problem, is it?"

"No, not at all," John replied. He sighed. The last time he'd been to Florida was when Storm and Jean had rescued him and his not-yet-deceased sister from their burned home.

Remy seemed to read him like a book. "You got history there?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah. I lived there before…" he trailed off, not sure how to phrase the statement.

Remy nodded in understanding, and no more words needed to be said. John cherished male bluntness at that moment. He never had to talk about his feelings with guys, and he _loved_ that aspect.

"So," John began anew, starting a new subject. "I never got to ask you… what can you…" he trailed off as Remy fished through his pants' pocket.

He pulled a simple card out; what looked like the ace of spades, and held it between his middle and pointer fingers. Within seconds, the card started to glow a bright orange, and what looked like electrical charges crawled all over it. Without even turning, Remy threw it out the back of the pilothouse and into the wind, after which it promptly exploded in a show of orange and red.

John was completely taken aback. "How exactly does _that_ work?" he loved learning about new powers, and found them fascinating.

"Basically, I kinetically charge objects to the point of instability. Then, boom," Remy said, rearranging his cigar in his lips.

"Sweet," John said, and Remy scoffed at his teenaged wording. "You can do that to anything?"

"Purdy much. Can't charge people. And it takes no more energy to charge an entire building than it does to charge something like that card. I'm just, shall we say, _good with cards,_" Remy finished, grinning.

He definitely seemed like the guy that empties everyone's pockets on poker night.

"How 'bout you?" Remy said asked.

John raised his igniter, lit a spark, and increased it to a nice size fireball. After that, he formed the shape of a woman, slender and curvaceous, and made her saunter through the air, hips waving.

Remy raised an eyebrow. "Got any limitations?" he asked.

"Yeah," John sighed, exterminating the woman. "I can only manipulate the fire; can't create it. What about you?"

"Not that I can think of," Remy began, and stared off into oblivion, obviously pondering the question. "I can charge anything, except humans like I said, and I can charge it with any part of my body."

"Really?" John half laughed.

"Oh yeah," Remy replied, matching his laugh. "Caught a barstool once with my rear. Meant to do that, though…"

John laughed out loud, imagining what it must have looked like to explode a barstool.

"What about your friends?" Remy asked, leaning over to grab a mug of coffee and hand it to John, who took it graciously.

"Well, Billy can kill people if they look him in the eyes. But don't worry, he has it under control. I think he'll only kill them if he's trying to. And Dom can create, manipulate and destroy precious gems," he said, and Remy raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, that's how we got down here; pawned off some of his jewels for train tickets," he finished, and Remy seemed thoroughly impressed.

"Why doesn't he talk?" Remy asked.

"Billy said something about 'terror silence.' Not sure what exactly it is, but one thing's for sure; that kid's seen horrors I probably couldn't even begin to imagine. The people with the NSA…"

"The NSA!" Remy exclaimed, removing his cigar and holding it. "Holy hell, you guys are lucky to have gotten out in one goddamn piece!" he said, turning back to the controls.

"So you know of them?" John asked, grateful for the chance at more information.

"Know of 'em? Hell, they're the only people to have ever caught me!" Remy said.

"Really?" John said, not seeing how a person who could explode any object could be caught. "How'd they do that?"

"Electricity," Remy said. "You got enough volts coursin' through your body, you cant access your power."

Something else John hadn't known.

"So, you got an alias?" Remy said, changing the subject.

"Yeah, Pyro. 'Inferno' was too gay," he said, and Remy laughed. "How 'bout you?" John asked.

"Gambit," Remy replied, taking up his half diminished cigar again. "There's two ways I get what I want in life; steal it, or gamble for it. Figured my biggest asset would make a good codename."

John nodded. "So," John began anew, sipping on the coffee he'd been given. "You got family back in Louisiana?"

Apparently, not a good question. Remy froze, hands on the controls, and sighed. "Long story, kid. Let's just say 'no'."

"Ah," John said, grimacing at the wrong choice of topic.

"What about you? Y'said you were from Florida. Where exactly?" Remy asked, supposedly to fill the awkward silence that had followed.

"Uh, actually Sarasota," John said, thinking back to his house in suburban Sarasota.

"Oh. Well, you don't seem too enthusiastic about goin' back, but don't worry. This gal lives in Daytona. Long ways off from Sarasota," Remy said.

"Good," was all John said in return.

Just then, John noticed Billy wandering around the corner on the promenade deck down below.

"Ahoy!" John yelled, and Remy turned to peer over the edge of the back of the open pilothouse.

"Hey," Billy said, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, by the way," Remy said, returning to his chair at the controls. "There's some breakfast down in the galley. Know how to get there?"

"Yeah," John replied, hoping his memory from the previous day would prove useful.

He bid Remy farewell, and joined Billy, and later Dom, in a plentiful breakfast.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

**Leviathan**

After several sun-filled, and often seasick filled days at sea, Remy docked the S.S. Dauphine at Loggerhead Club & Marina, near Daytona Beach. The warm sea breeze blew over the deck of the boat, the scent of salt strong with it.

The three boys stood on the deck as they awaited Remy's return from the boathouse, where he paid and filled out some paperwork, which took a good forty-five minutes.

"Took you long enough," John joked as Remy stepped onto the deck.

"Alright, smart ass. You can swim the rest of the way," Remy said, grabbing the scruff of John's shirt and leaning him over the side of the boat.

John half laughed, half screamed as he struggled back onto the boat. Needless to say, he didn't give any more smart remarks.

"Got some directions from the boatkeeper, and if she still lives in the same place, it's only a half-hour walk," Remy said, lighting a cigarette, soon thereafter having to provide one for Billy and Dominic.

_Great,_ John thought. _More walking._

Not wanting to be thrown into the harbor, he didn't share this thought out loud. Remy led them through streets, over a bridge, through more streets, a parking lot, and finally onto a walkway lining Daytona Beach. John resisted the urge to frolic into the welcoming waves, clothes and all. And by the look of it, Billy and Dom were resisting the same. John subconsciously told himself that they _would_ get a tan before they left.

Remy led them quite a way down the wooden walkway until they were standing in front of a shop, which was titled "Leviathan Surf and Swim Supply."

It was a three-story building; the bottom level was the shop, and the top two looked like an apartment. It was surrounded by much bigger buildings, most of them condominiums.

"Oh, _this_ looks promising," John said, not able to stop himself.

Remy raised an eyebrow, and John immediately pursed his lips. He beckoned them to follow him inside. A small bell chimed above the door as Remy pushed it open and stepped inside. A tidal wave of air conditioning rushed over them, causing John to shudder slightly.

It wasn't a giant shop, but it seemed well kept. There were surfboards of all different shapes and sizes lining the walls, as well as all the necessary supplies for keeping the maintenance for them. On one wall were all manner of wetsuits, the price tag of which was unbelievably outrageous. But hey, this was Daytona. People would pay it.

At the sound of the bell, a young woman walked from an unseen room behind the counter, through a curtain of stringed shells.

"Hi," she said welcomingly. "Can I help you with anything?"

She was young, probably college age. She had bright blonde hair that was cropped to her ears, but styled elegantly. She was wearing a simple gray t-shirt and short shorts. Her flip-flops flopped happily as she approached.

"Yes, ma'am. Actually I'm lookin' for somebody. To my most recent knowledge, she worked here. Name's Evaline?" Remy said in his respectful 'I'm talkin' to a woman' accent.

"Yup, she still works here. She's on her lunch break, though," the girl said.

"Oh, well any idea when she'll be back?"

"Actually, she probably never left. Check the waves," the girl said, grinning and pointing to the beach.

Remy nodded respectfully, and the three of them left the shop. Remy walked out onto the beach, his trench coat making him seem a little out of place. His eyes squinted against the sun as he held a hand up to shield them.

"Anything in particular we're looking for?" John asked, looking out at the plethora of scantily clad beachgoers and surfers enjoying the waves.

"Yeah," was all Remy said as he walked closer to the shoreline.

John peered out at the surfers, hoping to spot whoever it was Remy was looking for. His eyes, however, fell on a woman and wouldn't look away. She was in a black and white wetsuit, which was unzipped to just in between her breasts. She was skillfully riding a wave in, crouching low for speed. Her deep black hair fell far past her shoulders, accenting her deeply tanned skin. One hand was stretched out, skimming the surface of the water, and a grin spread across her gorgeous face. Her high cheekbones and curved eyebrows gave her a goddess-like appearance as she neared the shore. It took him the whole of a minute to fall in love with her.

That's when John noticed the bizarre part about this picture; she had no surfboard. She was surfing on the water itself. And it reacted to her, rippling beneath her feet and pushing her along as if she were actually on a board made of water. The wave peaked and crashed behind her, the rebound swallowing her up for a second before she reemerged, shaking her head and standing straight up as she was pushed quickly toward the shore. She slowed, then merely started walking toward the sandy beach, the water still supporting her like a glass floor.

"No bikini?" Remy asked, and John noticed that the woman he'd been obsessively watching was approaching Remy.

"No self-respecting surfer wears a bikini," she replied as she stepped onto the beach, leaving petite footprints in the waterlogged sand.

Remy smiled and stepped forward. "It's good to see you again, Eva," Remy said, and stepped forward to give her a simple hug. She held him for only a moment, then pushed away to look at him.

"It's been too long," she said, patting his shoulder. "Why don't you come on inside, my break was over five minutes ago."

"Actually, before we do, I'd like you to meet some people. This is John," Remy motioned to him, and he shook her dripping hand, barely able to stop himself from staring. Even sopping wet, she was absolutely stunning. "And this is Billy. And Dominic."

They each in turn shook her hand.

"Mutants as well?" Eva asked, and they nodded. "Good. So am I."

She never stopped grinning, and John was hypnotized by how striking her smile was. He leaned close to Dom and Billy, and whispered "dibbs."

Billy actually laughed out loud, and Dom smiled wide. Remy looked at them curiously, but they all followed as Eva led them back up to the surf shop.

The girl who had greeted them before was still at the counter, and she smiled as the five of them entered.

"Wait here for a second," Eva said, and walked into a dressing room to the right of the front counter. The door didn't go all the way to the floor, and again, John couldn't help but stare at her slender calves as she obviously changed out of her wetsuit.

She stepped back out, holding the wetsuit in one hand and wringing out her long hair with the other. She was in similar attire to the other girl; a yellow t-shirt, short shorts, and flip-flops. However, John couldn't help but notice how much better Eva pulled it off.

"By the way, this is Adalia," Eva said, pointing to the other girl. "We just call 'er Adie."

The girl didn't step forward, merely waved happily to everyone, and John was thankful they wouldn't all have to shake her hand. This polite thing was getting _really_ old.

"Adie, do you mind if I take them upstairs for a bit, I'll be right back down," Eva asked, still wringing out her hair.

"No, not at all. Matter of fact, if you just wanna take the rest of the day off, I'm sure you'll make it up sometime."

Eva smiled wide and threw herself at Adie, hugging her like a bear. "Thanks babe!" Eva said, and motioned for the four guests to follow her through the curtain of seashells and up a flight of stairs.

"So I take it you control water," John said, peering around the large living room that the stairs led them to.

To the left of the stairs was the living room, which comprised of two couches perpendicular to each other, a coffee table, and a medium sized television. On the far wall was a set of glass doors which led to a small deck that overlooked the beach below. Maroon curtains were drawn tightly to the sides, letting in as much natural light as possible. To the right was a waist high counter with three barstools, and behind that, a kitchen. It wasn't much, but it was a home.

"Control, create, destroy, etc." Eva said as she turned to the right and went into the small kitchen.

_Great,_ John thought. _Yet another mutant that can create their element._

John hated when mutants were lucky enough to be able to create the element they manipulated.

Eva grabbed a glass from a cupboard, and held her hand over top of it. Something began to form in her palm, and the sight reminded John of the pictures of galaxies in his astronomy class back at Xavier's. The tiny galaxy then took the shape of a water ball, and the water fell into the glass, sloshing only slightly.

"Water?" she asked happily, setting the glass on the counter. "Fresher than a mountain spring."

John smiled, picking up the glass and examining the clear liquid. "Impressive," he said, and they stared at each other for a second. "How does it work? Creating it, anyway…"

"My skin is super-moisturized, and I guess I just pull from that and form water. I don't do so hot in dryer climates," she said, pushing her still-wet hair from her face.

"You got a nickname?" John asked. He wasn't sure if random people named themselves, or if that was just an Xavier/Magneto thing.

"Leviathan," she said. "It's a…" she started to explain.

John channeled his mythology lessons from Xavier's. "Mythological sea monster. That's clever," he said, smiling and barely able to stop himself from staring.

She smiled to break the stare, and turned her attention to Remy. "So," she began, pushing her hair behind her ear. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Well," Remy said, passing a glance at John. "John, why don't you fill her in?"

"Uh," John stammered, not used to confrontation. "Well, um," he stuttered again, searching for a place to start. "Well, I worked with Eric Lehnsherr…"

"Magneto?" Eva said, taken aback.

John sighed. "Yes. I dunno if you've heard, but he's been cured, and all of those who followed him are kind of left… without anything. I picked up these two," he jutted a finger at Dom and Billy, "at the NSA after they got me."

Eva seemed surprised at this as well.

"And none of us have a home, a following, anything. We're sort of…"

"Lost?" Eva said, raising an eyebrow sympathetically.

John stared straight back, grateful that she understood. "Yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment until Remy cleared his throat.

"What I was thinkin' was," Remy said, giving John a chastising glare, "you might know of some people who could help them out. Up in New York, weren't they?"

"Oh," Eva said, tearing her eyes away from John. "Yes, actually. It's a group of mutants without a home. They all live together in an old abandoned boarding house. I could call 'em up…"

"That'd be great," John said.

Eva smiled again and turned to pull a corded phone off the wall, but paused before dialing. She bit her lip as she obviously considered something, then hung the phone up again.

"Why don't you guys stay here tonight, and I'll call them tomorrow? You look tired anyway…"

"Oh, we wouldn't want to impose," John blurted, completely unaware of where this politeness was coming from.

"It's no biggy. Adie and I live here, just the two of us. We got a pull out couch, a guest bedroom, and we have plenty of food. Please, it would be my pleasure," Eva said.

Remy turned to John, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

"Well, I guess if it's not too much trouble…"

"Good! I'll tell Adie," Eva said, and ran around the counter, through the group of guys, and down the stairs.

"Well," Remy said. "I think we should go get your things off the boat."

"Wait, your not staying with us?" John asked. He was just getting used to somebody else being in charge again.

"Nah, sorry kid. I'm afraid this is as far as we go together," Remy said, peering out the doors on the far wall.

"Why?" John asked.

"I never been the type for travelin' in groups. I'm more of a loner. Just glad I could help you out a little."

John could see there was no persuading him, so he sighed in defeat as Remy led the four of them down the stairs.

Eva, however, walked back through the curtain of shells as they reached the bottom, blocking they're way.

"Where you going?" she asked. "I was just about to get some dinner going."

"We're gunna get their things off the boat," Remy began, and Eva nodded. "But, I'm afraid I wont be comin' back with 'em. I got business to attend to back in New Orleans…"

Eva's brow furrowed in disappointment. "Aw, Remy…" she said, and gave him a giant hug. "Well you don't wait this long to visit next time, you hear me?" she said, affectionately rubbing his arm. "You come whenever you like, we can have a nice game of poker or something."

"You really that eager to go broke?" Remy joked, and Eva grinned, hugging him again.

"Goodbye, Remy. It was nice to finally see you again," she replied, and he nodded, and slipped past her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

**Dinner and a Show**

The three boys had packed their things in bags Remy supplied, bid him farewell, and found their way back to the surf shop. Eva showed them the guest bedroom, which was located on the third floor of the building, with the other two bedrooms, and Billy had insisted that John take it. He didn't argue, and after unloading all his things on the bed, he rejoined everyone in the kitchen, where Eva was loading a plethora of food-making supplies onto a tray.

"Whatcha makin?" John asked, and she didn't answer, merely beckoned him to follow.

She walked out of the kitchen and across the living room to the deck door. John hurried around her to get the door for her, since her hands were full. She thanked him, and turned right to set the tray down next to a large grill.

"Fajitas," she said happily, taking some kind of bundle wrapped in tin foil from the tray and pulling the foil off. "My family is Hispanic, so naturally, I cook a lot of Mexican food."

This girl just kept getting better and better.

"Yeah!" Adie yelled from her post at the kitchen counter inside. "I'm sure if they accepted it as currency, we could pay rent with her food!"

Adie had stopped working around 5:30, locked up the shop, and came upstairs to help with dinner. She was slicing some bell peppers on a cutting board in the kitchen, a radio on the counter blaring some kind of alternative artist. Adie sang loud as she did so, and John couldn't help but feel a twang of pity for himself that he never experienced this kind of kinship.

He was torn from his reverie as the sound of the sizzling meat met his ears. Eva had set a large flank steak on the grill, and was basting it with a paintbrush covered in some kind of marinade.

"So," John began, and seated himself in a plastic armchair on the opposite side of the small deck. "How exactly did you know Remy?"

"Well, it's a strange story, actually," Eva said, closing the top of the grill and turning to face him. "You want a beer?"

"Oh, I'm not old enough," John said, not that that had ever mattered.

"Neither am I," Eva said, smiling. "So, you want one?"

"Sure, why not," he replied, and Eva disappeared inside for a second.

After returning and handing John and the other boys their beverages, Eva sat at another chair, cradling her own beer.

"Basically, my mother was a young, single mother. She lived in Louisiana for a while; that's where she met Remy. She was having a hard time, and he kind of helped her out," Eva said, taking a swig of her beer.

_Hm_, John thought. _Seems like a recurring thing with him._

"She kinda had a little fling with him for a while…" Eva said, not meeting John's eyes.

"You're not…" John began, hoping like hell she wasn't his daughter or something.

She seemed to read him, and her eyes got big. "Oh hell no. No, definitely not. I was four at the time."

"Oh," John sighed in relief.

"What about you, cara oculta de la luna?" she said.

"Excuse me?" John said, hoping he hadn't gone crazy, because that definitely didn't sound like English.

"It means 'dark side of the moon.' I know nothing about you. Where you from, what's your ability, got family somewhere?"

John smiled. "Originally, I'm from Sarasota."

"Really?" Eva gasped. "That's where my mom lives now."

"Oh. Cool. Well, when I got my power, I went to Xavier's School in New York. Stayed there for oh… five years or so, and then I uh…" he paused, searching for correct words.

"Became disenchanted with it?" Eva asked, sipping her beer again.

John was amazed how well this girl read him. He stared at her for a moment, before replying, "yeah. It just seemed like I was hiding, and I didn't think I should have to do that."

"I agree," Eva said. "But you still haven't answered my other questions. What can you do?"

John smiled. He always loved this part. It would be particularly entertaining, since his power was directly contradictory to hers.

He lifted his right hand, which bore his igniter, and flicked his wrist. The flame immediately reacted to his thoughts, and increased to a nice large fireball.

"Ah, I see," she said, watching the dancing curves of the flame.

"What about you two?" she asked, turning her attention to Billy and Dom.

Before Billy could say anything, Dom leaned forward and put a hand on the table. A white glow emanated from underneath, and when he lifted it up, a tiny statue lay there.

It was a wave, on top of which was a surfer, flipping in the foam of the wave. The wave itself was blue, John figured some kind of aquamarine stone, and the surfer was shining diamond.

"Wow," Eva gasped, leaning forward and picking up the statue. "Is this…"

"Pure diamond," Billy said, smiling. "And probably aquamarine," Billy added, to which Dominic nodded affirmatively.

Eva continued to ogle for a moment before looking up at Billy. "What about you?"

He sighed. "You don't want to see mine," he said, looking down at the floor of the deck. "I can kill people if they look in my eyes. And I say 'can' because I have to be trying to kill them."

"Oh," Eva said, seeming sympathetic.

She rose, setting her beer on the table, and checked on the meat.

"So what's your stories?" she said toward Billy and Dom.

John hadn't even had time to ask that…

"Well, I'm a Los Angeles native," Billy said, sipping his beer. "My parents up and left me when I got my power because they thought I was some kind of demon," he said, pointing to his eyes. "I didn't know what was wrong with me, because I'd never used my power. Never been angry or scared enough. So, I went and lived with my girlfriend after that, and her parents were kind of abusive. Her dad went to hit her one night, and I got mad…" Billy trailed off.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Eva said, furrowing her eyebrows again.

"My girlfriend, Andy; she wasn't too traumatized, since he didn't love her anyway, but it was still her father. But her mother had called the cops, so they came and got me, and in turn handed me off to the NSA. That was a year ago this October," Billy finished, taking another swig of his beer.

Eva was silent for a second, then repeated, "I'm sorry."

"Eh, it's alright. It was a long time ago," Billy said, shrugging off the topic.

Eva turned back to the grill and removed the steak using a pair of tongs.

"What about you?" she said, turning her head to look at Dominic.

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to mention; he doesn't talk," Billy said, patting Dominic on the shoulder. "Don't know much about him. Just that he's got this thing called terror silence."

Eva studied Dominic for a second, and he fidgeted under her stare. John thought for a second about why Billy wouldn't inform her about Dom's illness, but he figured it might be something he didn't want shared with the world.

Eva turned back to the grill and began slicing the steak into thin strips.

"Hey Adie, are those peppers ready?" she yelled.

"Yeah," Adie replied, and walked outside carrying a frying pan full of sautéed peppers in one hand, and a bag of tortillas in the other.

"Soups up!" Eva said happily, and backed away from the grill. "You guys first."

They thanked her thoroughly, and filled their paper plates with plenty of fajitas. They returned to their chairs, which were clustered around a glass-topped table.

"Oh, by the way Eva," Adie said after a large mouthful. "Derrick's gunna bring Archy by later."

Eva nodded, then turned to the guys. "Derrick's her squeeze, Archy's our dog."

"You have a dog!" Billy gasped, loosing some of his previous bite and blushing about his display.

"Yeah, English bulldog. His full name's Archimedes," Eva said, washing down some fajita with a swig of beer.

"I love bulldogs!" Billy said, this time making sure he had swallowed his food.

"Us too. We wanted something that could be perceived as threatening, but something we could cuddle with. And there's fifty-three pounds of fat to cuddle with. He usually hangs around the store with us during the day, but Derrick occasionally takes him," Eva said.

"Are you… a mutant?" John asked to Adie.

"No, but I'm not one of those 'hate-all-mutants, love-the-earth' pansies. I'm a Christian, and I think God loves all his children, and he puts all of us here for a reason. He wouldn't have created mutants if he wanted us to hate them," Adie said, drinking out of a Dr. Pepper.

John couldn't stop himself before he scoffed.

"What?" Adie asked, not offended, but still curious as to the scoff.

"I'm not sure what I believe, but there's no way _he_ loves _me,_" John said, drinking his beer.

Adie stared back at him for a moment. "So then do you think he doesn't love all mutants?"

"No, I said me. After what I've done in the name of my 'ability'…" John said, thinking back to the lives he had taken.

"I've killed," Billy added, seeming to wonder if he'd been forgotten too.

"And it was an accident," Adie said, thoroughly certain that she could convince them that they were not 'forgotten.' "When the British first colonized North America, they suppressed the natives. And later on, blacks and women. God may put us through trials, but it is only to test our strength of will and love of life. He loves us."

"Yeah well," John said, finally perturbed at the topic. "I failed."

Adie stared empathetically at him, but decided not to continue the discussion.

After they finished, the boys helped them clean the dishes, and just as they were finishing, there was a ring coming from a small stereo by the door.

"Oh, Derrick's here. I'll go let him in," Adie said. She had been avoiding speaking with John after the faith argument they'd had, and it was fine with John. Religion was one thing he refused to get involved with.

A few minutes later she returned, followed by a tall, brown haired boy, and after that, a white and fawn bulldog. The classic choke-pant accompanied the chubby dog, and Billy immediately knelt to pet it. Archy seemed happy for any attention, and the boys spent the next half hour playing with and/or poking fun at the plump little dog.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**A Rooftop Discussion**

John sighed loud as he entered the guest bedroom down the hall from Eva's and Adie's rooms. The girls had set up the pull out couch shortly after Derrick left, and Dominic had collapsed, not even waiting for sheets. Billy had then promptly slumped onto the other couch, where he soon fell asleep. Thus, leaving John with nothing to do but retreat to his room. However, when he got there, he didn't feel like sleeping.

He walked to the window on the other side of the room and noticed that there was a small roof area just outside. He sighed, and opened the window, then carefully unscrewed the screen, placing it against the wall in the room. He crawled out, not taking anything with him. He sat, knees pulled up to his chest, the warm Florida air cascading over his skin. The little patch of roof overlooked the beach below, and he reveled in the calming sound of crashing waves. The sun had gone down, but it's radiance still shone vaguely on the horizon.

For a good half hour, he just sat, manipulating a flame person and thinking about his current situation. What would he even do once he met these people in New York? Would he just live there? Could he go back to Xavier's? Would they even forgive him? He couldn't get any accounts in any banks since the government was after him like a fat kid on cake, so he couldn't even take out a loan for his own place. And he couldn't leave Billy and Dominic. They had nowhere to go, just like him, and they needed just as much help. Why was everything so complicated?

"Hey," he heard from behind him, and he jumped, the little flame person disappearing without a trace. It was Eva.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I just saw your door open and thought you might need something," she said sweetly.

"Oh, no. I just… I'm sorry. Should I not be out here?" he said, and made to crawl back inside.

"No, no. It's fine," Eva said, stopping him with a hand, and then crawling out next to him. She curled her legs up as well, and stared out at the ocean, wrapping her arms around her knees. "Whatcha thinkin' about?" she asked.

"Oh, lots. I'm just… confused. I don't know how I'm supposed to live like this," he said, and ignited another flame as a safety blanket.

Eva stared as the differing colors of the fire danced over her tan face. "So I take it your not real big into religion?"

He scoffed. "How could you tell?"

She grinned. "Adie was just trying to help. She really does believe that. And you know, I'm not sure what I believe, but you have to admit, what she said has some merit."

"No it doesn't. She doesn't consider that maybe _God_ has a few exceptions to the whole 'love' rule," he said, laying his head on his knees.

Eva was quiet for a second as she stared at him. "Who hurt you so badly that you're this bitter toward everything?" she asked, a hint of anger in her voice.

He didn't look at her; didn't even react to the statement. "I did," he said.

She was quiet, and John decided it was time to tell someone. No one knew exactly what had happened that night, not even Xavier. And the truth had been eating away at him from the inside out. Besides, he would leave soon and forget all about this girl, and she'd probably forget about him. And hopefully what he was about to tell her.

"The night I got my ability," he said, staring at the flame before him. "I destroyed everything I had."

Eva didn't interrupt, but merely listened quietly.

"When I came home from school that day, everything was fine. My parents were getting along, which wasn't normal. I should have known it was the calm before the storm. Figuratively and literally. It started to rain around 7:00, and that's when everything went downhill. I was in my room doing some homework when I heard them start yelling at each other. I usually just let them, but my baby sister was in her crib in the living room, and she was crying. They didn't even care. They just kept yelling at each other. So I went downstairs to bring her into my room.

"Somehow I got dragged into the argument, and my dad started hitting me. I mean really _hitting me._ I fell back against the dining room table; broke my arm. My mom got angry. She tried to stop him, but he was drunk, so he didn't care. He threw her back too, and her head hit the granite countertop. Sometimes when I sleep, I can still hear the sound it made," John almost choked out the last sentence as unforeseen sobs worked their way into his voice.

"I was so scared," he went on. "There was so much blood, I didn't know what to do. And then he started storming toward Claire. I just got so angry…"

"Claire was your… sister?" Eva asked quietly, and John nodded.

"I… I jumped up and charged after him, screaming. He turned to hit me again, and then it just happened. The flames in the fireplace just jumped out and attacked him. And he was screaming. He tried to get them off, but the angrier I got, the worse the fire became. He stumbled around, trying to get them off, and ignited the house in the process. And as he fell, he took down Claire's crib with him. She… she was crying so hard. I just wanted to keep her safe. And the sight of her rolling out of that crib, crying, reaching out for anyone who would just hold her… I just snapped. It was like the whole room caught at once; everything from the furniture to the curtains. I went to grab her and run, but the fire followed my hands. I didn't know what was wrong with me, but I knew I had to get her out. So I grabbed her and ran. But wherever I went, the fire followed.

"I tried to wake my mother, but it was obvious at that point that she was gone. That just made me worse; she was the only part of my family that cared about me. And the fire just…" he stopped, his voice breaking.

Eva leaned close, and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"The people at Xavier's did the best they could, but Claire died that night of massive third degree burns," he said, exterminating the flame he held in his hand.

"John, I… I didn't know. I'm sorry," she said, rubbing his shoulder again.

He shrugged, embarrassed that a tear had fallen from his eye, and he quickly wiped it away.

"John," she said, and forced him to face her. "Whatever happened, it was not your fault."

He stared down at the roof, refusing to look at her.

"Look at me," she said, and put a finger gently under his chin and forced him to look up. "It was _not_ your fault."

He sighed, then tried to turn away from her again. She didn't let him. She inched closer and leaned against him, keeping her hand gently on his back.

"I killed them," he said, staring at the now pitch black horizon. "It doesn't matter if it was intentional or not. I _murdered_ my family."

"Don't say that," Eva said. "It was an accident."

"Yeah, when a car crashes, it's an accident. That doesn't mean people didn't die," John said, igniting another flame.

"Except accidents lay no blame. You're human, John. People make mistakes. And you may not think God loves you. Hell, I don't even know if there _is_ a God. But regardless, _people_ are bound to love you. You're a good person. You've just got some cracks to fill," she said, staring at the fire.

"Yeah, I guess," he replied, forming a flame-wolf and making it run in place.

"Now, you get some sleep," Eva said, and crawled backward through the window. John shivered at the loss of heat the joining of their bodies had created. "You gunna sleep out there or what?" Eva said, and held out a hand to help him crawl inside.

He closed the window and turned back to her. "Thanks for listening. I've never told anyone that before."

She seemed surprised that he would share such private information with her, but the shock quickly wore off. "Glad I was here to listen," she said.

She turned away, letting a hand rest on his arm for a few extra seconds. "I'm just gunna take these and wash them," she said, picking up his old clothes from the bed. "They smell."

John laughed. "Thanks."

"Goodnight," she said as she stepped out the door and closed it.

"Goodnight," he said to the now empty doorway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Invasion**

The smell of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen and living room as Eva filled her mug, rubbed her eyes, and readied herself to descend the stairs and get back to work. She peeked into the living room, where Billy and Dominic were still wholeheartedly passed out. Just in front of the TV was a large dog bed, where Archy snored louder than the two boys combined. She smiled to herself as she sipped her coffee and started her descent down the stairs. But strange voices in the shop caused her to stop halfway down.

She peeked down into the shop, where she could see Adie at the counter, conversing with two brawny, military-looking guys. Usually, that was normal, since the naval base nearby usually let loose it's officers on the beach in their free time. But these two were different. They were done up in a strange uniform; black, not blue, and they were still acting in their military prowess. Usually the naval officers they got in here were respectful, but they didn't act like they were still on the job. Eva craned her neck to listen to what they were saying.

"So you haven't seen them around here? A lifeguard on the beach said he saw them out front of your shop around five o'clock," the man speaking directly to Adie said. The other man was wandering around the shop, analyzing everything with scrutiny.

"No, like I said. They came in here, asked me a few questions, and left," Adie said, and Eva could hear her inner-thespian shining brightly. Go, Adie.

"What kinds of questions?" the man asked, and Eva started to get a pit in her stomach.

"They asked if I knew where my roommate was. She was on her lunch break, so I told them I didn't know. That's when they left," Adie said, sounding completely confident. Eva considered taking over the shop for a while so Adie could go back to school for acting. She could certainly get the job.

"Well, if they come back, you'll let me know?" the man said, writing a phone number on a piece of paper, tearing it from his notebook, and handing it to Adie. "They're criminals; very dangerous people."

_Shit_, Eva thought to herself. That sounded like a person who knew exactly what breed of "dangerous" he was dealing with.

"Sure," Adie said, pocketing the number.

"You mind if we look around the shop a little bit?" the other man said from his point over by the flip-flops.

"Not at all," Adie said, smiling. "The store-room's just out that way, if you wanna start there."

The men thanked her, then began snooping around the store. It was then that Eva saw the logo patch on the front pocket of one of the guy's jackets; NSA.

She bit her lip anxiously and snuck back up the stairs, setting her coffee on the half wall and tiptoeing into the living room. She approached Billy first, who had snuggled up with every single one of their couch cushions. She would have laughed in any other situation. She softly laid a hand on his shoulder and shook him lightly.

"Billy," she whispered, shaking him again. He jumped slightly, and started to question her.

Her eyes wide, she held a finger to her lips, pointing to the stairs leading to the shop. "NSA. Here," she mouthed, and Billy finally got it. He bolted up, trying to be as quiet as possible as he slipped his shirt and shoes on.

Eva turned to awaken Dominic, but when she faced him, he was already up, and dressing. She put her head right next to Billy so that her whispering couldn't be heard by anyone downstairs.

"The shop's the only way out. You'll have to come upstairs; there's a fire escape ladder."

Billy nodded, and beckoned for Dom to follow. Eva tiptoed down the hall, giving the shop stairs a wide birth, and slowly and quietly crawled up the stairs to John's room. Luckily, the door wasn't even closed all the way.

She pushed it open, grimacing when it creaked. Both Billy and Dom waited behind her. She woke John the same way she had Billy, and he threw on some clothes and his igniter as she led them out of his room and into another.

It had to be either Eva's or Adie's room, but John kind of figured it was Eva's. There were bras littered on the floor; impressive bras, and Adie wasn't exactly as impressive as Eva in that department. Eva looked mortified that all three of them noticed the bras, and hurried them to the window on the far wall. They all stopped dead when they heard movement downstairs and Archy's deep barking. Eva held up a finger, and peeked out into the hall, listening intently. When she turned back, her face gave away her fear.

"They're searching the apartment," she whispered, and hurried to open the window, revealing an old but reliable ladder that led to the alley out back.

The first to go down the ladder was Billy, who looked the alley up and down, then motioned for them to follow. Dominic went next, lithely maneuvering the ladder for how unimpressive he was.

John paused when it was his turn, looking at Eva, who was obviously planning on staying.

"Thank you," he said, his conviction staggeringly strong. "For everything."

"It's nothing. Now get out of here, you big lug," she said, playfully pushing him toward the window.

He still hesitated, and he could see Billy and Dominic fidgeting in the street below. He just couldn't escape the feeling that he was abandoning something… important.

"Go!" she whispered louder, and he sighed in defeat as he threw one leg out the window and onto the ladder.

Eva yelped, and John whipped his head back into the room to see Eva ducking the electrical lines of a Tazer gun, which were streaming from the upheld hand of one NSA soldier and into the wall.

"Up here!" the man yelled out the door, then picked up his belt radio. "They're escaping out back!"

John didn't give the man another chance to actually get Eva. He lashed his hand toward the man, and flicked his wrist in the ever-familiar fashion. The tiny spark gave him all he needed.

He threw a huge fireball at the man, causing him to fly backward, hit the wall, and slump onto the floor. A nice charred outline of his figure was burned into the wall behind where he had been standing, and John made a mental note to apologize later.

"Come with us!" he hissed, holding out a hand.

"No, I couldn't. I…" Eva brushed a hand over her hair sheepishly, her conflict running obviously across her face.

"Eva!" he said again, shaking his hand at her. "You housed criminals. Even if they don't catch us, they'll arrest you. I can't deal with that on my conscience. _Come with us!_" he said again, and the pounding of the second guy's footsteps approaching made up her mind.

She took his grasp firmly as he yanked her out the window just behind himself and they frantically crawled down the ladder. Just as their feet hit the ground, the pounding of more running footsteps could be heard, and they looked down the alley to see at least ten more NSA guys jumping out of a white, unmarked van and running toward them, clad in riot-gear.

"_Shit_," John hissed as they rocketed down the alley the other direction, toward the ocean. "That riot gear is pretty damned fire proof!"

Suddenly John heard what sounded like shattering-glass and nails-on-a-chalkboard's lovechild. He tossed a glance over his shoulder to see that Dominic had stopped running, faced the NSA workers, and tiny shimmering objects were rocketing from his wrists, shattering the riot shields and gear. The NSA soldiers were doing their best to take cover, but it wasn't doing much good.

"They're not diamond-proof!" Billy said happily, clapping Dominic on the back, which made the smaller boy stumble a bit.

They all turned to run again, considering they now had a few seconds before those guys got up. John noticed that Dominic suddenly looked extremely pale, and was stumbling with every step. Billy wrapped an arm around him to support him, and they all followed Eva around the back of the shop and up the next alley.

"Uh, Eva," John said. "Hate to burst your beautiful bubble here, but _the bad guys are that way!_"

"So's my truck," she said simply, jumping into the driver's seat of a rusted blue Ford pickup. "Get in!"

They didn't bother with the cab; just jumped into the bed, and John slammed a fist on the roof of the cab to signify Eva that they were in and ready to go. Sand and dust filled the alley as she gassed the old truck out and onto the highway, just about t-boning someone in the process.

John didn't know where they were headed; just that "away from the house" seemed like a pretty good plan. He thought for a second that Eva might go to the dock, see if Remy was still there, but she turned the opposite direction and started heading north. He didn't question her; instead, he just sat tight as she sped away. John figured those NSA guys might follow them, but so far there was no sign of any white-vanned pursuers.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**A Run-in With the Healthcare System**

"So where are we going, anyway?" John yelled into the driver window as Eva sped away from her home, life, and friends. The warm wind whipped everyone's hair around, and Eva had to yell for John to hear her from his location in the bed of the truck.

"Those people I told you about live in Bayville, New York. I guess I'm driving there," she said, sounding unsure.

John sighed, saddened that she was being dragged away from everything she knew on his behalf. He hadn't really thought about it when he asked her to come. Hopefully, they could wait this out in New York and then she could go back.

He sat back into the truck bed, fidgeting to get comfortable. He noticed that Billy was leaning against the cab, staring worriedly at Dominic, who was sprawled on the bed's floor, clutching his temple in a clearly painful gesture.

"Whoa, you okay, man?" John asked, nudging Dom's arm.

Dominic flinched away, as if the small poke had hurt him. He looked at John for a second with wild eyes, then nodded "no."

"Shit, what's wrong?" he asked, then realized it was stupid to ask _Dominic_ a question.

"It's that disease he's got," Billy said, his black hair wildly whipping his face. "He gets some kind of medication for it once a month, and he goes downhill fast if he doesn't get it. He was supposed to get it just after we broke out. I don't know what it was, though."

John looked back at Dominic, who had slumped back onto the bed, clutching at his hair again. John leaned up so Eva could hear him through her open window.

"Hey, we gotta pull over. Dominic's… sick," he said.

"We can't stop now, we're still too close to the house. They'll find us. Will he be okay for another few miles?" she yelled, and John turned to Dom for the answer.

He feebly nodded, but John could tell, even if there weren't any words, that it was a lie.

Eva drove for another twenty minutes or so, and John watched as Dominic writhed at every speed bump, every pothole. He was about to say "fuck it, find a hospital," when he recognized the familiar red cross symbolizing that Eva was pulling into a hospital parking lot.

"Good girl," he murmured, and she skidded into a parking spot, turning off the car and jumping out to approach the side of the bed.

"What's wrong with him?" she asked sweetly, scrutinizing Dominic's twisted heap.

"He has this bone disease. He takes a medication for it once a month, but he hasn't gotten it this month," Billy said, helping Dominic painfully out of the bed, where he stumbled and had to be held up by Billy. It was sort of like watching a drunken person, only sadder.

"You know what it's called?" Eva asked as they made their way to the entrance. "The medication, I mean?"

John fidgeted nervously. Three out of four of them were wanted criminals, and they were walking into a hospital, where there would most likely be security or police officers.

"No," Billy replied.

Eva held open the door as Billy carefully helped Dom through them. The foyer was filled with a few people in chairs, and a woman at the front desk. They didn't need to say anything; the woman at the front desk made a gasping sound and ran around her desk to approach them.

"What's wrong?" she asked, looking over Dominic.

"He needs some kind of medication," Billy said, gripping Dominic tighter as the boy slumped a little, making a small moaning noise that John realized was the first sound he'd heard him make. "But I don't know what it's called."

"Oh…kay," the woman said, biting her lip in confusion.

"You know what it is?" John asked, looking at Dominic's pain inflicted and black hair-covered face. "Will you know it if you see it?" Dominic nodded, and grimaced at the motion.

"Alright, we need to see your drug stores," John said to the woman.

"I can't do that," she began, her professional air returning.

John's patience had fizzled out days ago. He raised his hand, flicked his wrist, and ignited a nice intimidating fireball. "Please," he continued, and made sure to make it sound like anything but a suggestion.

The woman's eyes got wide, and she backed away a step. John made a show of intensifying the flames for incentive.

"Right this way," the woman said, never taking her eyes from the flames.

The four of them followed as the woman led them through a series of hallways.

"You didn't have to threaten her," Eva whispered as they approached what looked like a closet. John merely shrugged.

The woman sighed in defeat, and opened the storeroom door. Billy helped Dom inside, where he peered around, examining every bottle closely and reading their contents. He grabbed a bottle labeled Ibandronate with a shaking hand, and held it out to John. John took it, staring at it as if it was some mysterious fifth limb.

"Here," he said, recomposing himself and handing the bottle to the woman, who's nametag read N. Moira Ward, which seemed fitting.

"I can't just…" she began to argue, and he ignited another flame. Needless to say, the talking stopped.

Moira led them to a small room, where she retrieved a sterilized needle and faced Dominic. "You know how much?" the woman asked, voice shaking.

Dominic didn't answer; instead he ripped the syringe from the woman's hand, tipped the bottle upside down, and pulled some of the yellowish liquid into it. Without hesitation, he plunged the needle into his arm at the elbow, emptying its contents into his veins. John cringed, and resisted the horrible urge to gag.

Dominic visibly relaxed, his head rolling back and his eyes closing. He took a deep breath and handed the syringe back to Moira, and she took it, lost on what to do. Dominic then reached forward to where a clipboard with a blank medical form sat on a metal cart, and grabbed the pen clipped to the top. With a lightly trembling hand, he wrote _thank you,_ and handed it to her. She looked utterly appalled, but composed herself quickly.

"He can't speak?" she asked to Billy.

"Doesn't. Can, but doesn't," Billy replied, patting Dominic on the back.

Dominic reached forward, taking the clipboard from Moira again and writing something John didn't have time to read. Her face softened as she read it, and she smiled at Dominic.

Eva elbowed John, pointing to the tiny window in the door. Two police officers were scurrying down the hallway.

"Time to go," John said curtly, grabbing Dominic and pulling him forward as Eva and Billy followed. They pushed through the doors, and the officers skidded to a halt on the tile floor in front of them.

Everyone was still for a moment, staring each other down.

"Let us pass, and nobody gets hurt," John said, igniting a flame again.

Both officers pulled their guns and trained them on John, probably deciding he was a bigger threat. Mistake.

Without warning, a two-foot deep flood of water tore past the four of them without touching them, and took the officers right off their feet. When John looked, he saw Eva supplying the tiny river with everything it needed to keep the officers subdued.

"Let's boogy," she said playfully, and the four of them dashed over the forms of the cops, struggling to get back onto their feet.

When they reached the foyer again, the flood spilled in with them through the doors they barged through. The people in the waiting room yelped and scattered. The four of them made for the front door.

"Wait!" John heard from behind him, and he spun to see Moira, still holding the clipboard. "There are more cop cars out front. Go down this hall," she pointed to a different hallway, "take a left, and then the second right."

John considered if he should trust her or not, but decided quickly as the sirens out front made their way inside. The four of them dashed, John in the lead, past Moira and toward the hallway. He glimpsed the clipboard where Dominic had written, _we're not monsters. Just different._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Escape to Bayville**

Once out the back, the sirens' songs were clearly detectable; there were more than one. By the sound of it, there were at least four.

The four of them were standing in a back parking lot, presumably for employees.

"How the hell are we supposed to get to the car?" John hissed.

Eva thought for a moment. "I don't think we can. It's parked in the center of the front lot, and they won't leave until they find us. We can't stick around."

"Damn it," John cursed.

"Hey," he heard Billy whisper, and was nudged in the ribs. He turned to see Dominic standing at the driver's side of a red Dodge Durango. There was a paper-thin hook made of some kind of gem protruding from his right palm, and he was shoving it gently down in the windowsill. He moved it toward himself, then pulled upward.

There was a tiny click, and John saw the lock rise inside the car.

"How the _hell_ does he know how to do all this?" John asked Billy, to which the boy only shrugged.

Dominic quickly opened the door, and leaned in on the floor. He did something to the plastic below the steering wheel, and it fell to the floor, exposing several multi-colored wires.

"Oh, don't tell me you know how to hot-wire it too," John said, and Dominic turned his head and gave him a wicked grin as he pulled a few wires and switched them with a few others.

Sure enough, the car roared to life.

"_Damn_," John said, and nodded his head in disbelief. "You said he's been in multiple prisons since he was fourteen?" John asked Billy as they all piled into the car.

"Yeah," Billy said, obviously as impressed and confused as John.

Dominic hurried to the passenger's side as Eva hopped into the driver's seat. "You guys get down," she said as she put the car into drive. "They'll probably be looking for your faces."

They did as they were told, forsaking seatbelts, for now, for a spot on the floor of the big car. Luckily, the police hadn't set up an exit block yet, so Eva lithely maneuvered the car slowly out of the lot, to avoid drawing attention. The boys kept their heads down for several miles, until they decided the coast was clear.

"That was _way_ too close for comfort," John said as he strapped in.

"I agree," Eva said. "Let's _not_ do that again."

"So… we headed to that place in New York?" John asked as he stared out the window.

"I guess," Eva said, looking curiously around the car. "I feel really bad. I've never stolen a car before. Actually, I've never done anything of a criminal nature before. Well… actually… there was this one time…"

"Technically Dominic stole the car. We forced you to drive," John corrected her, smiling.

She looked at him in the rearview mirror. "Thanks," she said. "So um…" she began, looking at Dominic. "We're gunna need to get gas. How do I turn this thing off?"

John was about to make fun of her for asking the silent guy a question when Dominic leaned into her lap, and yanked out a wire. The car immediately died.

"Dude!" John yelled as the car began to sputter and slow. "Not while we're driving!"

Dominic smiled and plugged the wire back into its jack. The car groaned as it jumped loudly back to life.

"Alright, I'll keep that in mind," Eva said, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

For several hours, the drive was silent. Everyone kept their thoughts to themselves. John assumed they had their own worries. Eva most of all. Just yesterday she'd been a carefree, criminal record-free girl selling surf supplies on Daytona Beach. Now she was aiding the escape of three convicts. And she had just left her precious beat-down truck in a hospital parking lot.

Billy was probably thinking about that girlfriend of his back in LA. John wondered if he wanted to try to go back.

Who the hell knew what Dominic was thinking about?

After about three hours, they had reached mid-Florida, and the empty sign on the gas meter. Eva stopped for gas, and went into the attached store to pre-pay with cash so she wouldn't leave a credit card charge for the NSA to follow. Truthfully, not in a million years would John have ever thought of that. He smiled to himself as Eva walked out of the station with a few hot dogs and bags of Cracker Jacks. Contrary to popular belief, they still make those. And they still have a toy inside, which brought many hours of amusement to the guys until they crossed the Florida-Georgia border.

In the days of driving that followed, John had a lot of time to think. First, it was about the past, and its connection to his future. He wondered about Bobby and Rogue, and if they were happy. Rogue had taken the cure, so he was pretty sure she was. But what now? Did the two of them just live happily ever after at the mansion? That seemed a little boring. And what about Magneto? John wondered where he was, and how distraught he was about losing his power.

And what about Gambit? Had he made it out of Florida? Or had those NSA guys gotten to him first? John got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought about it. So far, everyone that had helped him ended up worse off than before. It seemed like whatever he did, it was hurting someone else. He usually wouldn't have given a shit, but these were people on his side, people with the same beliefs. Why couldn't he just find a place where he could be content? Where he could still fight for mutant freedom, but not be hunted for it. Hopefully this place in Bayville might hold some answers.

"So, who is this person you know, anyway?" John asked through a mouthful of chips as Eva stared at a map she was clutching against the steering wheel as she drove.

"People," Eva corrected, looking at the map as if it were a nice detailed topographic map of Timbuktu. "There's five, I believe. None of them have a family or any alliances, so they live together in an old boarding house. They stay hidden, but I can't say they stay out of trouble."

"Ah, troublemakers," John smiled. "My kind of people."

"They really are, actually," Eva said, turning right onto an on-ramp of an interstate. "The girl that I'm friends with… well, she's really actually a woman, she's about my age; college age. Her brother and the other three guys living there are seniors in high school."

When John got to thinking about it, he'd had his nineteenth birthday sometime during his time with Magneto, and hadn't even noticed. He made a mental note to have himself a belated party sometime in the near future, if circumstances allowed.

"How much longer, do you think, until we get there?" Billy asked as he leaned out his window and let the wind whip his black hair about violently.

"Probably sometime tomorrow, assuming we don't stop," Eva said, tossing the map into Dominic's lap.

They had been taking turns driving, to let whomever drove last get some sleep. However, Dominic never drove because, to John's astonishment, he'd never officially learned. Upon a few yes or no nodding questions, Dominic had cued them in that he had a basic knowledge, but preferred not to.

So it was a triple-switch. First Eva, then John, then Billy. Repeat process as needed. They had done two whole circulations, and Eva was looking tired.

"Why don't I drive through the night, then?" John asked, looking at the dashboard clock, which read 6:37.

"Alright," Eva said, promptly yawning to prove her sleepiness.

She pulled off the interstate at the first available chance, and parked at a gas station so she could switch with John. However, Billy informed them that they couldn't get right back on the road.

"Dude," Billy said, doing some kind of strange dance. "I need to use the little girl's room."

John laughed as Dominic nodded enthusiastically. He also wondered if Dominic would sooner hold it forever than tell them that he had to go.

So the four of them went into the gas station to use their incredibly non-hygienic facilities.

Eva was finished first, to John's surprise. But to surprise him more, Dominic went right into the ladies room when she was finished.

"Apparently he doesn't want to wait until Billy's done," Eva smiled.

"Guy's gotta go, guy's gotta go," John said, his subconscious taking him all the way back to the ride to Six Flags, when he had jumped out of Storm's Hummer to relieve himself on the side of the road.

Eva laughed, pushing her hair behind her ear.

"Hey, I wanted to thank you. _Really_ thank you. For everything," John said in quieter tones. "I mean, you left everything; your home, your friend, your job, your… dog."

Eva laughed.

"All just to help us," John finished, feeling awkward. He didn't do so hot in the sentimental department. Sarcasm was more his specialty.

"It's not a big deal," she replied, laying a well-tanned hand on his arm. "I'll lay low for a while, then I'll go back. It'll be like it never happened. Well, minus the part where I'll have to retrieve my truck from an impound lot somewhere in mid-Florida."

John laughed as Billy stepped out of the bathroom, looking like he couldn't have been happier.

"Man, I feel like I just lost ten pounds of pee," Billy said, and both John and Eva burst into loud, obnoxious laughter.

John took over the driving when they left. Eva knew the address and the basic roads, so she charted a line on the map for him to follow. Strangely, the metronomic pattern of the interstate lights passing above the car was calming. It just proved that he was putting miles between him and… whatever it was he was trying to get away from. And it wasn't just corporeal things, like the IFCM and the people there that were hunting him down. It was more than that. All the memories from the past months were just flowing away behind the car.

John loved his time with Magneto. He'd been using his ability in a way he always wanted to. He'd been really fighting for something, something that mattered. Mutant freedom. Sure, after the incident at Alcatraz, some new laws had been passed. But how long would those last? How many people would adhere to them?

John wouldn't wait around helplessly until the day the humans picked up their swords and pitchforks again. No, he'd be ready. And he'd fight back.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, I have a little clarifying to do before this chapter. So some of you may have noticed that I'm doing a kind of quasi-muffed up movie/x-men evolution (the cartoon) universe. With a little bit of my own spliced in. So the boarding house: Toad isnt there because he was in movie #1. Blob isnt there because he was already in Origins, and the timeline really wouldnt work out (it worked with Remy because he was younger). And Avalanche isnt there because (i dont know if you noticed) he was already in this, as a full-grown man. So there you have it. I'm only doing characters that will work out with the timeline/ havent been in any of the movies. Enjoy.

**

* * *

**

Chapter 15

**The Misfits of Bayville**

"_This_ is it?" John asked as he stared up at the giant house. It was massive, yes; a massive disaster. The giant box of a house had windowsills that were all but falling off of the walls, and the paint looked… well… there hardly was any paint. There was a very… antique looking jeep out front as well as a dingy old Pontiac Firebird that could have been breathtaking but… wasn't.

"Hey," Eva said as she stepped out of the driver's seat. "Don't judge a book by its cover."

John usually wasn't one for judging, but this was like trying not to judge a steaming pile of shit.

"Seriously," Eva said as she walked up to the house and up onto the patio. "Not just the house." She finished by rapping her hand on the door several times.

John was just wondering what exactly she meant by that when he heard footsteps inside.

"Don't you guys worry," came a sarcastic female voice from inside. "I got this."

When the door opened, John figured out what Eva had meant. The woman who had opened the door stood at nearly six feet, but it wasn't natural. She wore black leather boots that bore at least three-inch platforms and laced all the way up to her knees. Above that were slightly burlesque-like fishnets that went up to a red and black plaid skirt. Above that was a pitch-black corset that made her already impressive bust look… well, impressive. On her arms were spider web-themed gloves that rose to above her elbows. There was a red choker on her neck that more resembled Archy's collar. Her black hair was cropped short, and on its underside was a thick streak of fire engine red. Her striking blue eyes were bordered in a plethora of black eyeliner and mascara. However, the moment she saw Eva, her almost stoic expression changed to one of pure joy, somehow lighting up her dark features and moon-pale face.

"Eva!" she practically yelled, and launched forward to wrap a hearty hug around Eva. John mentally wondered how this woman hadn't received some kind of medal for actually being able to walk in those shoes. Eva reciprocated the hug with just as much, if not more enthusiasm.

"Hey!" Eva said as the woman stepped back and studied her old friend. "How long has it been, now? Four years?"

"Sure feels like longer," the woman said, smiling brightly at Eva, who, for all intents and purposes, was her polar opposite.

"Oh, sorry. You know me, no manners," Eva began. "John, Dom, Billy, this is Wanda Maximoff, a.k.a. The Scarlet Witch."

The woman, now known as Wanda, stepped forward and shook John's hand happily, then took Dominic's. In the most surprising act John had seen in a very long time, Dominic raised her hand to his lips as he bowed, and kissed it. Wanda grinned fanatically as Dominic straightened, his eyes locked on Wanda's. John made a mental note to tease Dom about his crush later.

Wanda then shook Billy's hand, and turned back to Eva. "To what do I owe this incredibly surprising but not unwelcome pleasure?"

"Well, we were hoping to…" Eva began, but was cut off.

The sound of something slicing through the air met their ears; like the whistle wind makes when it is rushed to move out of an object's way.

And without warning, there was a boy standing next to Wanda, his head peeking over her shoulder. "Who's at the door?" he said quickly, and Wanda jumped and belted out a hearty yelp and jerked away.

The boy looked about high school senior age, but that wasn't the strange thing. His slicked-back hair was a light silver color, almost white, with two strands falling out in stark rebellion. His eyes were a startling blue color, like Eva's except more… bright. He stood at six feet, except his height was completely natural. He was pretty much all legs; like a prized racehorse. He was incredibly well toned, and yet still seemed very skinny. And there was something… familiar about his face, his expression.

"Christ, Pietro. Don't _do_ that," Wanda said, turning an angered look at the boy, whose smile only widened. "You remember my old friend, Eva?" Wanda continued, still perturbed.

"Oh yeah, sea-woman," he said, waving at Eva so quickly that his pale hand disappeared in a blur.

"Leviathan to you, Seabiscuit," Eva snipped at the boy playfully.

"Hey!" Pietro snapped back. "I'm faster than him!"

"_Anyway,_" Wanda interrupted. "This is my _brother_," she said, tossing out the word as if she regretted the fact, "Pietro."

That same whipping sound cracked the air, and before John registered the white blur through the air, the boy was standing right in front of him, holding out his hand. "Call me Quicksilver."

John took Pietro's hand, and when he shook it, he thought it would snap off due to the speed at which he did.

"Back on topic," Eva said, shooting Pietro a "shut the hell up and go away" look. The boy merely smiled and stayed put. "I believe these three have a little something to talk to you about, involving… how shall I say… housing arrangements?"

"Oh, of course," Wanda said. "Why don't we all go inside, and I'll round up all the other tenants. They should probably be present."

"Sounds like a plan," John said, and the four of them followed Wanda back inside.

While the house looked enormous from the outside, it outshined itself on the inside. It was still unimpressive as far as care was concerned, but the fact still remained; it was huge. Directly in front of the door was a pair of stairs that went halfway up, then arched around leading to an area above the foyer. To the left of the stairs was a closet, which sat ajar with coats, shoes, and junk galore spilling out. To the left was a doorway leading into a large kitchen, and on the right was a giant yet ill-maintained living room.

"Come on in," Wanda said, leading them into the living room. John took a seat on the couch, which promptly spat stuffing out of a hole between his legs.

"Sorry," Wanda said, wincing. "We can't really afford upkeep."

Dominic sat on a recliner, and as if to spite Wanda, one of its springs snapped inside the cushion.

"Jeez, Dom," John said playfully. "Fattie."

Dominic, in all his one hundred pounds of skinny-fucker glory, just shrugged.

John heard the familiar whipping sound, and before he registered that Pietro was gone, he was back. It was slightly reminiscent of Kurt/Nightcrawler.

"Soda?" Peitro asked, dangling a six-pack of Dr. Peppers from a pointer finger.

"Sure, why not," John said, taking one from the pack.

"Wow, Wanda," Eva said, smiling one of her brightest smiles. "He's really come a long way as far as manners. He's a quick learner." Eva continued, making it sound as if Pietro was a five year old with Downs.

"Yeah, those shock collars, you know, work miracles," Wanda said.

"Alright," Pietro said, pulling the sodas back from Eva as she reached for one. "You know what, you can get your own damn drink."

"Aw, you know I'm just playing," Eva said, and Pietro handed her a soda. "Kind of."

Pietro dramatically acted as if he was going to hit Eva.

"Pietro!" Wanda said, and he turned to her. "Go get everybody and tell them to come down here."

Pietro gave her a "why the hell do I have to do it?" look, and upon her narrowed eyes, disappeared around the corner and up the stairs.

"Can't you just feel the love?" Wanda asked, taking a Dr. Pepper from the pack that Pietro had set on an end table.

"So," John began as they waited for everyone to join them. "I obviously know what the speedster's ability is. What about you?"

Wanda looked up at him as she sipped her coke through her deep ruby lips. "I'm not sure how to explain it," she said, furrowing her neatly trimmed eyebrows as she thought. "I suppose I can influence probability. I used to call it hexing things when I was younger, hence the nickname. I just make the impossible possible; the unlikely likely. Make any sense?"

"Not really," John said.

"Okay, well, what's your ability?" she asked.

John simply flicked his wrist, igniting a fireball and sustaining it.

"Hm," Wanda said, admiring for only a moment. John demolished the flame and waited for her response.

But instead of speaking, she merely held out a hand toward him. As he watched, his entire body was enveloped in some kind of sparkling blue mist.

"Now try it," she said, holding the mist around him.

He flicked his wrist, but when he told the little spark to ignite into a fireball, absolutely nothing happened.

"See?" she asked, the mist disappearing. "The odds of you being able to control that fire are very high because it's in your genes. I just manipulated the odds against you."

John was dumbstruck, and by the faces of Dominic and Billy, they were too. Eva just smiled wide, as if to say, "yeah, that's my friend."

Soon there was a hoard of footsteps coming from the stairs, and everyone turned to look.

Obviously leading the group was Pietro, who whipped across the room to stand next to where Wanda had taken a seat on the other side of the couch. Next down the stairs was a somewhat surfer-looking young man. By a whole shitload of standards, he was incredibly handsome. He had a head of flat-ironed bronze-colored hair that was accented by a few thin strips of bleach blonde. All of it was swept across his forehead in a typically emo-like fashion, but he still maintained a more prep look. There was a silver nose ring glinting against the chiseled profile of his face. His shirt held the name of some band that John remotely remembered hearing about, and his jeans were a tiny bit tighter than they probably should have been. His somewhat large arms were crossed across his chest, and his stance instantly screamed "alpha male." John knew immediately that their personalities would clash like two weather fronts.

Behind him was a shorter boy who was obviously his brother. His brother; who had gotten less nutrients in utero. He was shorter and less built, but quite obviously related. His hair was worn short and somewhat curly, and appeared a much darker brown, and seemed almost black. But the one thing John noticed immediately about him was his eyes; one was ice blue, the other was a deep, entrancing green. He also wore a shirt with the name of some band, but his jeans were considerably looser than his brother's.

The third boy bounded around the corner like a gazelle. He was almost as tall as the first boy, but was pretty much as skinny as Dominic. He had a… mane. It was black, and fell to his shoulders in a very Jesus-style fashion. John had to bite his tongue to avoid crying, "It's the second coming!"

John stood, and Wanda walked forward to introduce them. "Guys, this is John, Dominic, and Billy. This is Scott," she said, motioning to the surfer guy.

Scott stepped forward and shook John's hand. Like he'd thought, this Scott person was an alpha personality. Both of them tried to intimidate the other by attempting to crush his hand.

Wanda obviously noticed this, and cleared her throat.

"Hi, I'm Donovan," Scott's brother said, stepping forward to put a cease-fire into their testosterone battle. "I'm Scott's paternal twin. Everybody calls me Dono."

John released Scott, and shook Donovan's hand enthusiastically, happy to have a submissive personality to talk to. Dominic and Billy stepped forward and took turns shaking hands.

The third boy stepped forward. "Hi, I'm Sparticus." John couldn't help but burst out laughing. "Just kidding," the boy said, showing a mouthful of pearly whites. "I'm Paul. Everybody calls me Paul."

John smiled as he shook his hand, knowing that he was _definitely_ going to like him.

"Well," Scott said, once the introductions were over with. "What can we do for you?"


	16. Chapter 16

So I remembered that most of my readers havent read the comics/seen the cartoon, so I felt like clarifying on how to pronounce Pietro's name. There's two ways that are considered correct. 1.) Pee-Ay-Tro(like throw without the h), or 2.)Pee-eh-tro. Both are correct. Now go about your business :-]

**

* * *

**

Chapter 16

**Acquaintance**

About half an hour later, the group of nine was all seated in various spots around the living room, listening to what John had to say.

"I don't know where to start," John said, a bit uncomfortable that absolutely everyone was staring at him. "I guess I'll start where this all began; Xavier's School for the Gifted. I can't even begin to explain how caged I felt. I hated that I was hiding. I didn't think I should have to."

When he said that, several heads around the room nodded in agreement. Others just listened intently. As John had soon found out, Pietro would only sit still in death. So his foot was either always tapping, or he was making random beats on his thighs with his thumbs. John quickly learned to tune it out.

"So I left," he continued, watching Pietro grab a Dr. Pepper from the cardboard box. "I joined someone who I believed could set me free. And he did. In my time with Magneto…"

When John said that name, Pietro's hand twitched so violently on the cap of his soda that he pulled the tab off and heartily shoved his thumb accidentally down into the now open can, successfully cutting his finger. John also noticed that Wanda froze into the portrait of a wolf that had spotted an injured rabbit.

"Uh… was it something I said?" John asked, actually a bit afraid of Wanda.

"Yeah," Pietro said, examining the slice in his thumb. "But never mind," he said, elbowing Wanda out of her trance. "Continue."

John looked around for a moment before continuing, and realized that all the boarding house tenants seemed on edge; like they were watching Wanda and Pietro for some kind of… nuclear explosion.

"Anyway, I'd been with him for oh… five months or so, when we decided to attack Alcatraz, the source of this cure you've probably heard about," he said, to which he got more nods. "But we were… unsuccessful. Long story short, the X-Men showed up, stopped us, and got Magneto cured in the process."

Of course, Pietro had been taking a drink of his soda when he said that, so it ended up in his windpipe and all over the floor in front of him.

"What?!" Wanda practically yelled, standing up out of her seat. Paul resorted to averting his eyes and slamming his fist on Pietro's back several times to try and save him from the very vengeful Dr. Pepper.

"Okay, what the hell is going on here?" John asked, standing. "Why is it such a big deal?"

Wanda thought for a minute, then averted her eyes to the ground. "It's nothing," she said, seeming sheepish as she sat back down.

John sighed, staring at Wanda. "This place caught me afterward and imprisoned me. That's where I met them," John said, jutting a thumb at Billy and Dominic. "One thing made me realize that Magneto may have been done for, but his cause wasn't. And that one thing was him," John said, pointing at Dominic, who looked thoroughly surprised.

That seemed to interest Wanda. She looked up from the floor, staring from Dominic to John.

"They abducted him when he was fourteen and experimented on him for four years, until they deemed him useless. Mind you, this was after they permanently damaged his bones and limited his life to thirty years," he said, and Dominic looked a little uncomfortable with being singled out. Wanda, however, was staring at him with the utmost of sympathy.

"So that's why I decided to keep fighting," John continued. "There are no laws protecting mutants with a criminal record. They can do whatever they want to with me, Dom, Billy. I don't know if any of you have a record, but if you do, they can do whatever they want to. Torture, experiment… maybe even kill. It's disgusting."

Pietro scoffed at the "criminal record" part, and Wanda threw him a dirty look.

"So," Scott chimed in for the first time. "What are you here for?"

John looked over at him, wondering if the real statement behind that was "why the hell did you just show up here, preaching about some war that we aren't a part of?"

"Well," John began again. "I am officially homeless, broke, and without any allegiances of any kind. I'm just sort of…"

"Alone?" Wanda asked, and it sounded like there was a huge array conviction behind that statement.

"Yeah," John replied.

"That's why we have this place. Everyone here is in the same predicament. So if you need a place to stay, you're more than welcome. That's what we're here for."

John sighed in relief. "Thank you so much. I really didn't have another option after this. I mean, Magneto's out there somewhere, but what good will he be? He's just human."

Wanda stood up again, and turned to look out the window behind the couch. "You don't know much about him, do you?" she asked, rubbing her arms as if she were cold.

"Not really," John said. "I know he was in a concentration camp as a child. I know he lost both parents there, but was rescued. I know he used to be friends with Xavier, a long ass time ago."

"Did you also know that after his friendship with Xavier fell apart, he had a wife?" she said, studying the trees outside.

"Uh…no. Definitely didn't know that," John said.

"Then I assume you were also unaware of his two children?" she said, turning back around.

John couldn't help it; his jaw dropped past his knees. "He had _kids?_"

Wanda nodded. "Almost twenty years ago."

That's when it all fell into place. That's why they had been so anxious at the mention of Magneto. That's what was so familiar about Pietro's face.

"Whoa!" John yelped, standing quickly. "You're… you're not… are you?"

Wanda nodded solemnly. "Raised by a number of foster parents, tossed around orphanages."

John thought he heard Pietro mutter "and asylums," but he could have been mistaken.

"Uh… wow," John stuttered, trying to regain control of himself. "I had no idea. So, you haven't seen him since…"

"Not word nor whisper for nine years," she said, somewhat bitterly. "Our mother died in child birth, and for whatever reason, he believed that he was in some way responsible; that he could have done more. I don't know what he thought he could have done, but that's another story. But he just kind of left when he got the news, and never came back. We were placed up for adoption, and luckily we went together to the Maximoff's. We lived there blissfully until we reached about eight years old.

"That's when he showed up," she said, sighing at the memory. "At the time, we were ecstatic that out real father had returned. I see now that he knew we would have mutations and was only coming to collect."

John couldn't help himself; he was almost leaning forward off the couch he was so interested.

"So we went back with him for a little while," Wanda continued, and John noticed that for the first time, Pietro was statue-still as he listened. "But I got out of hand. My power was so difficult to control that every time I got angry or scared, something disastrous happened. He just couldn't deal with it. _Wouldn't _deal with it."

When she finished that sentence, her voice broke, and she almost seemed like she would cry.

"Well," Pietro continued, for the sake of his sister's obvious grief. "He sent her away. To a place for the mentally ill. I can't even begin to fathom what that must have been like," he said, looking at Wanda's bowed face. "But it broke me. She was my best friend, my only friend. So I ran. Obviously, it's the one thing I do best. I just ran and ran until I couldn't anymore. Which, trust me, is a _very_ long way. I ended up somewhere near here. I bounced around orphanages and foster homes for a few years, but I was too much of a basket case for most of them. I attended high school here at Bayville High, but as you can imagine, I was too… conflicted to show up most days. So the day I turned eighteen, I moved into this house with three of my high school buddies," he pointed at Scott, Donovan, and Paul.

"About half a year later, I saw something on the news that involved a young girl escaping from a mental institution. I thought nothing of it until she showed up here," Pietro said, and Wanda cringed at the thought.

"She was angry at first," Pietro continued, skirting the topic with care. "She thought that I had something to do with Magneto turning her in to that place. She thought I could have done more to help her. But we got through it eventually, and that's why we decided to make this place a safe haven for mutants."

John didn't notice that his jaw was hanging open until Eva put a hand on it and slammed it shut.

"Sorry," John said, smiling. "It's just… I'm realizing how little I knew about him."

"Yeah, that seems to be a recurring theme with him," Pietro said, returning to tapping his foot on the floor.

John nodded, noticing an obvious stopping point in the conversation. "So, um," he began again. "You're all mutants?"

"Yup," Paul answered, tossing a pretzel into the air and catching it in his mouth. John was going to ask where exactly he'd _gotten_ that pretzel, but his other questions were more interesting.

"Sorry to be a nuisance, it's just that I love to know what people can do…" he said, trailing off in the hopes that they would pick up that end of the conversation.

Scott stepped forward and reached both hands out toward the glass windows, which promptly shattered into miniscule spider-web cracks, and collapsed. John, Billy, Dominic, and Eva all jumped, but the rest acted like it happened every day.

"Not just that," Scott said, still holding out his hands.

It seemed like tiny glass ants were stacking on top of each other and solidifying in the windowsills. It continued in that fashion until two shiny new glass panes were set perfectly in their perches.

"Sweet," John said, admiring the glass. "All glass?"

"Yeah," Scott replied. "Including bullet-proof."

"Well that could come in handy," John said, remembering how Dominic had shattered the NSA's bullet-proof shields with diamond and become very weak and sick in the process.

"Donovan can see the immediate future," Scott said, stepping back to stand next to his brother.

John's eyes widened.

"But it comes to me in flashes, I can't really conjure it up whenever I want to," Donovan said.

John studied Donovan for a moment, then looked at Paul. "What about you?" he asked.

Paul smiled a wicked and somewhat troublesome smile.

Without warning, Pietro slumped from his spot standing next to Wanda to collapse on the floor. At first John thought it might be something like Billy's, then realized that Pietro's friend probably wouldn't kill him.

"I can send people to sleep," Paul smiled wider, and kicked Peitro's sleeping body. Wanda laughed out loud. "I can also give them dreams of my choosing. And nightmares. I can also send them into a coma; one that only I can pull them out of."

Pietro then opened his eyes, sat up, and stared daggers at Paul. "Did you really have to show them?" he said irritably, standing and brushing off his clothes.

"No, but it was funnier that way," Paul said, picking at his fingernails.

John heard that growing familiar whipping sound that signified when Pietro was running, followed by a loud snap. Paul's hair flipped up in the back and as soon as he said "ow," Pietro was already standing across the room.

"Jackass," Paul muttered, rubbing his head.

"Dill hole," Pietro replied.

"_Anyway_," Wanda interrupted. "We were just about to whip up some dinner. Why don't we get you guys some rooms, and then we'll start."

John finally felt like he'd found somewhere he could live permanently.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

**New Friends, New Home**

Wanda had decided to give them a tour of the house before showing them to their rooms. There were three levels; the ground floor, an upper floor, and a basement. On the top floor were the rooms of Pietro, Scott, Donovan, Paul, and Wanda, all in a grid pattern down a long hallway, plus a bathroom.

On the ground floor were the living room, kitchen, and laundry room. The door leading to the basement, where Wanda informed them that their rooms were, was directly to the left of the pantry, which John assured them he would walk into several times before getting it right.

The basement seemed to never end. There was a large entertainment area that included a TV and pool table, as well as a small wet bar. Behind that was a master bath and three bedrooms.

"I'm not planning on staying long, so I'll just sleep on the couch out in the rec room," Eva said as she explored the huge bathroom along with John and Wanda. Billy and Dominic had already claimed their rooms, and were exploring them thoroughly.

"Okay," Wanda said as she pulled towels from a linen closet and hung them on the racks. "Cuz otherwise I was gunna offer for you to share my bed. It's huge."

John stopped what he was doing and stared at the two girls as a nice image of a scantily clad pillow fight floated through his head. He noticed the heads of both Dominic and Billy poke out of their rooms with the same look on their faces.

"Oh, men," Eva said, swatting John over the shoulder. "Every time we say we're gunna sleep in the same bed as another woman, they immediately think that we're going to do so naked."

John smiled. "Why not?" he asked, and then Wanda hit him too.

Wanda then walked into the closet in John's room and pulled out some blankets. "Here you go, Eva," she said, and walked out of the bathroom and into the rec room, where she dropped the blankets onto the couch.

"Thanks," Eva said as the four of them followed Wanda back into the rec room.

"Well," Wanda said, clapping her hands together. "Let's go cook up some grub."

For the next twenty minutes, the tenants of the boarding house bustled around the kitchen, throwing the ingredients for chili into a huge pot on the stove.

At one point, Wanda realized that they were out of Chili powder, and told Pietro to run out to the store and get some. John didn't find this wording at all out of place, until he noticed that Pietro actually _ran_ to the store. It took him all of about two minutes to return, and he informed them that it would have been quicker if the lines at the store weren't so long.

John smiled as random conversation filled the big kitchen, feeling almost as secure as he had with Xavier; with good company and a roof over his head.

"So what about you guys?" John asked in the direction of Scott, Donovan, and Paul. "Why aren't you living with family?"

"We lived in a trailer home south of here," Scott began as he dipped a finger in the chili to test it and received a slap to the hand from Wanda. "Our dad took off when we were young, and our mother was an alcoholic. So you could say it wasn't really a great situation.

"Anyway, the evening Donovan got his first vision, he was in the kitchen. He got his vision of our thirteen-year-old sister hanging herself in our garage, and when he did, it scared him really bad. He accidentally knocked over the knife rack and cut himself up pretty bad. I found him and he told me what he saw. I doubted the vision was real, but I went to make sure anyway.

"Sure enough, there she was," Scott said, obvious remorse in his voice. "To this day, I don't know why she did it. You know, the comprehension of death just isn't that good in someone that young…" Scott paused as he threw the beans into the pot.

"Anyway, when I found her, every glass window in our trailer park exploded. Sometimes I find it amusing that we're twins and our powers manifested on the same night," Scott said, wiping his hands on a towel.

John was finally realizing that he wasn't the only one with a tragic past.

"We left sometime during that week and never went back," Scott continued, clapping his brother happily on the back. "We still check up on our mom from time to time, but that place was just… a death trap."

"I can imagine," John said as he sipped at another coke, which had been provided by Paul.

"What about you?" John asked Paul as he chewed on a piece of cheese.

"Strange you should ask, actually," Paul said, leaning back against the counter. "I was abducted by the NSA when I was fifteen."

Dominic's head snapped up to look at Paul when he heard this.

"Why didn't you say something earlier?" John asked.

"Didn't seem relevant," Paul replied. "But they pretty much did the same thing to me as they did him," he said, pointing at Dominic. "They wanted to try to harvest my ability for military and medical purposes. As you can imagine, if you can put someone under with a thought rather than anesthetics, the hospitals wouldn't have to expend so much money on them.

"They found that my ability is centralized to my brain, like most mutants. So to access it, they surgically poked around my brain and spinal cord."

John was pretty sure his eyes were the size of grapefruits.

Paul turned around and lifted up his shirt to reveal a foot-long scar running from the base of his neck down his back. "They didn't find what they were looking for," Paul began again, lowering his shirt and turning back around. "But they certainly gave me a nice parting gift in the form of severe back pain."

"Jesus," John cursed, his hatred for this NSA place boiling.

"Yeah," Paul continued, taking a piece of cheddar from the cutting board and gnawing on it. "I got out eventually, but I didn't want to go home, a.) because I knew it was the first place they'd look for me, and b.) because I didn't want to drag my family into it. I check up on them every once in a while, but they can never know where I am because the NSA could find me."

John noticed that Dominic was still staring at Paul with wild eyes, so he decided to change the topic.

"So you all go to Bayville High?" he asked, moving out of the way so that Wanda could throw the ground beef into the pot.

"Just the four of us," Scott said, motioning to Donovan, Paul, and Pietro. "Wanda works at a music store downtown."

"Oh yeah, that reminds me," John began again excitedly. "Who's Firebird is that out front?"

"Pietro's," Donovan said, obvious envy in his voice. "But I don't know why in hell he has the damn thing. White-top here," Donovan said, shoving Pietro, "just runs to school every day."

"Yeah, what's up with that?" John asked, motioning to Pietro's hair.

"He's so fast, pigment can't keep up with him," Paul joked, to which Pietro slapped him on the arm.

"I don't really know," Pietro said. "I was born like this. It's part of the reason I chose the name Quicksilver; because when I'm running, the only color people can really make out is my silver hair."

"Speaking of aliases, you guys have any?" John asked of Scott, Donovan, and Paul.

"Of course," Scott said, smiling a nice male-model grin. "I chose Kingpin. Don't know why, it just sounded cool," he said, laughing.

"Oracle," Donovan said, raising his hand. "For obvious reasons."

"Lunesta," Paul said, and everyone burst into laughter. "Just kidding," Paul continued, and John realized that Paul must be the resident goof of the house. "Nightmare. I got the idea from a video game I love, actually."

"Soul Calibur, yeah!" John replied, remembering the many days he'd spent playing it with Bobby back at Xavier's.

"Hell yeah," Paul said. "Of course, I'm kind of short one mangled arm."

"You've got the right length of hair though!" John laughed.

Everyone laughed again, until Wanda stepped forward, holding out a spoonful of Chili to John.

"Test," she commanded.

He took the spoon and tested the spoonful, which was by far the best chili he'd ever tasted.

"Oh my God," he said, licking the spoon as if he'd never eat again. "That is sex on a stick!"

Wanda laughed as she pulled out a few bowls from a cupboard. "Soup's up!"

For the remainder of the night, they all sat crowded around the living room, watching funny TV shows and talking about random topics. John hadn't felt so at home since Xavier's School for the Gifted.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

**Accidentally On Purpose**

Cleaning up after their massive feast took about an hour, but it eventually got done. John usually would have stayed up until dawn talking to his new roommates, but he was exhausted. He'd been taking shifts with Eva and Billy driving, but sleeping in the back of the car wasn't entirely restful. So he informed them that he was hitting the sack, followed quickly by Eva, Billy, and Dom. As he thought he would, he walked right into the pantry, thinking it was the basement stairs.

He laughed as he made sure Billy and Dominic had entered their rooms before going out into the rec room to talk to Eva before bed. She was sitting on the couch on top of her blankets, dressed in only a big shirt, playing a video game on the TV.

"Hey, I thought you were tired?" John said, taking a seat next to her.

"Well, I was," she replied, pausing the game and trying to nonchalantly pull the shirt farther down her legs but failing. "But when I laid down, my mind was racing. I'm just worried, you know?"

"How so?" John replied.

"Well, I just can't stop thinking that all of this is too good to be true. You guys made it all the way up here with little incident, and the NSA never found us. I just… I worry that there's something we're not seeing. Those people have resources."

John thought about it. She was right. The NSA had managed to hold hundreds of mutants hostage, and the escape had been narrow. There was little chance they could hide from the NSA for long.

"Plus I worry about Adie," Eva went on. "I mean I got out of there, but what about her? They had to have figured out she was involved with housing you guys. What if they arrested her? Oh God, she'd never survive in jail."

"Call her," John said, looking around for a phone and grabbing one off of the table to his right.

"Okay," Eva said, seeming sheepish that she hadn't thought of that.

She dialed quickly and waited as John watched.

"Adie!" Eva gasped in relief. "Oh thank God, I thought they might have arrested you," she paused, listening to Adie's response. "No, we're in New York. Yeah, Wanda's place. I'm gunna stay here for a little while, let things cool down before coming back. What happened? How did you get out of that?"

Eva waited as Adie answered. "Oh wow. I always knew you were a great actress. When I come back, I'll take over the store full time and you _will_ go back to school. You'll be a Hollywood starlet in no time."

John smiled as Eva practically bounced on the couch in relief. "Good dog!" she squealed, and laughed when Adie said something.

"Okay, well I was just calling to check up," Eva continued. "Yeah, I'll give you a ring when I'm on my way back. See you then. Bye."

Eva handed him the phone and sighed. "She said Archy bit one of the NSA guys. She also told them that she stayed at Derrick's place, so she didn't know you were there. They let her off, but they told her to call if she hears from us."

"She won't, will she? Call them, I mean," he asked skeptically.

"Hell no," Eva replied. "No, never. She's the most trustworthy person I've ever met. She keeps secrets like her own."

John nodded at the silence that ensued, and decided it was his chance to talk to her about something that had been bothering him.

"So listen, I was hoping to talk to you about… what I told you on the roof back at your place," he said, looking away from her.

"Yeah?" she asked.

"Well, I told you what happened to me because I needed to tell someone, and honestly I thought that I would leave and we'd forget all about each other. Now I… I don't know, having someone around who knows just eats away at me. I don't know what it is, but I have this compulsion to keep it a secret. And I just look at you, and I know that you know… it's hard for me to deal with. I have this dominant personality, and I always have to be in control of situations, and that was the one time in my life when absolutely everything was out of my control. So I need to know that it will stay the way it is; a secret," he finished, looking at the ground.

"Of course, John," she said softly, looking at him sympathetically. "I would never tell anyone unless you wanted me to."

John nodded in thanks and Eva merely smiled warmly.

"So what are you gunna do now?" she asked. "As far as the future is concerned."

"Well, we'll lay low here for a while. But I see a real threat to me and all mutants in this NSA place. I think I'll start up where Magneto left off and try to take them down. And if I can't do that, I'll just try to shed some light on what they're doing; see if I can't get the government to intervene. Since Hank McCoy resigned before Alcatraz, though, there hasn't been real big representation for mutants in the government. So I don't know, we'll see how it goes."

Eva was smiling at him strangely.

"What?" he asked.

"It's just… back in Florida, you spoke like you had no purpose; like you didn't know where you belonged. Now I can see real change coming to the mutant populace if you succeed in what you're talking about. You just… seem like you've found your path."

John just smiled back, nodding. "Well, thanks for listening," he said, standing.

"Not a problem," she replied, staying seated to avoid any wardrobe malfunctions. "I'm glad I could help you."

John smiled as he walked back into his room, turning on a single light as he stripped to his boxers for bed. He made a mental note to do laundry sometime soon. And go shopping for new clothes. His were hideously torn and dirty.

He slipped into his new bed, only then realizing that Eva's guest room, Remy's boat, and this one were the only real beds he'd slept on in… a very long time. Before that, it consisted of the ground in tents at Magneto's camp, benches at several train stations, and the back seats of cars. He scoffed at how ridiculously mountain man he'd become. He had always joked that when he got his own car, he would hit hitchhikers because he hated having to pull into oncoming traffic to avoid them. Now he was one of them.

He lay in bed, thinking of a jumble of thoughts; how incredibly far off the path his life had gone, how difficult it was going to be from now on, how he'd probably never have anything remotely resembling a normal life.

He had just turned off the light when he heard his doorknob turn and the door creak open. He could tell by the silhouette that it was Eva. He grinned as he remembered that the bathroom door was right next to his room.

"Eva, the bathroom is next door," he said, remembering how he'd walked into the pantry on his way down.

She sauntered forward, and knelt on the side of his bed. He narrowed his eyes in confusion, and sat up.

"I'm not looking for the bathroom," she said, and there was something… different in her voice.

She crawled forward on all fours, and before he could say anything, she laced a soft hand around his neck and pulled him into a sweet yet somehow very intense kiss.

"Eva," he groaned lightly, pulling out of the kiss. "What are you doing?"

He had really thought of her as a close friend up until now. Sure, he'd _kill_ to hook up with her, but he had never expected it to happen.

"What I've wanted to do since I met you," she cooed, her cool breath brushing against his skin.

"Whoa! That's crazy. Me too!" he joked sarcastically, and she laughed as she laid a hand on his chest and pushed him back against the bed as she straddled him.

She laced her smooth hands in his and smiled as she began kissing him again, this time much more passionately.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

**Impending**

"Okay. Bye, Eva," Adalia said in her best thespian voice as the Commander pulled the phone away from her face and hung it up.

"Very good, Ms. Mullen," Commander Trask said, smiling at the girl as she tried her hardest to keep back her tears. "Did you get a track on that phone call, Agent Buel?" he continued.

"Yes sir," the smaller agent said, removing his headpiece and pushing his laptop off of his lap. He stood, and handed a piece of paper to the Commander. "Bayville, New York, sir."

"Well done," he said, reading the address on the paper.

"They're good people!" Adie said, her voice breaking as she continued to fight back tears.

"They're criminals, Ms. Mullen. Nothing more, nothing less," the Commander said as Agent Buel shut his laptop and began packing his things. He wasn't happy with the time it took, considering the large bandage on his hand. He sent an angry look at the dog, who was still growling at him from beyond the deck door.

"They made a mistake," Adie continued. "Even if they do have to be arrested for what they've done, they at least deserve a fair trial. They deserve to not be hunted like animals!"

"No," the Commander said, walking forward to stand in front of the chair Adie was tied to. He rested his hands on the armrests as he stared her in the eyes. "That's where you're wrong. They're monsters. Abominations. They're genetic cesspools, and they don't deserve a trial any more that that dog does for biting my best agent. And they _do_ need to be hunted, and do you know why?"

Adie stared back at the man through hateful, narrowed eyes. If her hands weren't tied to this chair, she'd have hit him by now.

"It's because they're all dangerous," the Commander continued. "They're a threat to humanity. Every single one of those _freaks_ deserves to be behind bars, decaying like the filth they are. They steal, they murder, and they go on with their rotten little lives knowing that because of their so-called _gifts_, they can get away with it. _I'm_ going to change that," he said, straightening and stepping back from Adalia. "Starting with your friends."

"Don't hurt them!" she yelled as the Commander began to pack his things into his black duffle bag.

"What should we do with her, sir?" Agent Buel asked, as if he hadn't even heard her.

Commander Trask thought for a moment. "Well, we can't leave her here," he began, tapping his temple in thought. "She'd just call them and warn them. But of course," he said, looking back at Adie. "The main goal of the Nautica Science Association is to eradicate the mutant threat for the betterment of humankind. So we can't technically do anything to harm a human."

Agent Buel just stared back, waiting for orders.

"Bring her with us," the Commander said. "As soon as we've apprehended the suspects, she'll be released."

Agent Buel stepped forward and began to untie Adie, who immediately began to struggle against him.

"Now Ms. Mullen," Trask said. "This would go a lot smoother if you cooperated."

"No! Screw you and your stupid revolutionary mutant-hating company! You're killing God's children! Hunting them down! Damn you!" she began to kick against Agent Buel, who easily held her hands behind her back as he attempted to drag her out to the van.

"Well that's not very nice," he said in a monotone, a crooked smile gracing his gruff features as Buel dragged Adie out into the van.

He watched from the loading-dock garage as Buel tied Adalia's hands and legs. He remembered why he'd gotten into this business as Adalia attempted to scream and kick, but failed against Buel's strength.

It was a sunny 4th of July day in Mobile, Alabama. His pregnant wife of only two months was assigned security at a local bank during the annual parade. He'd gone with her to enjoy the parade, but also for moral support, since working on one of her favorite holidays wasn't on her list of fun activities.

She'd looked so cute in her Police uniform, her belly already growing so that it was making the shirt tighter than it usually was. But Robert Trask had thought it was the cutest thing. He couldn't believe a beautiful woman like Melissa had agreed to marry him, much less have children with him.

He never wandered far from the bank, but once he did. One of the local fire-engines was making it's way down the street, and Robert had stepped up the line of spectators to wave at a couple of his buddies. They honked and whistled at their friend as they drove by, waving fanatically and pretending they were going to spray him with the hose. He laughed as they tossed out American flags and candy to children.

That's when it happened. He heard the most awful, gut wrenching crashing sound. Everyone around jumped and yelped as the loud crash surprised them all. When he turned around, the bank was just… gone. Dust and debris was littering the air, and where the bank had been, there was only a massive pile of twisted metal and cement. People began to run and scream, a small chaos consuming the immediate public.

But Robert couldn't have cared less about any of them. He let out a scream that he was sure bordered on primal wolf than man.

"Melissa!" he cried, rocketing toward the debris and trying to pull the cement away. But it was no use; the two-story building had somehow compressed inward, leaving not even an inch of air to spare between the hunks of metal and cement.

He remembered staying there for hours, digging through the debris, and throwing off cement heaps. But it was futile.

He'd found out later on that it had been a mutant; one that could compress matter, in essence crushing the entire bank. Melissa and anyone else inside would have been obliterated by the sheer mass of debris crushing in on them. He didn't know what the motivation was for the attack, and he never cared to find out. He hated all of them. Hated them with a passion that wouldn't die out until he squeezed the last breath of life from every last mutant.

He sighed at the horrid memory, spitting out onto the sidewalk as Buel shut the back of the van and clapped his hands together.

"All set, Commander," Buel said.

"Let's hit the road then," Trask replied as he walked forward and into the passenger side of the van. Adalia was in the back, yelling through her now duct-taped mouth and kicking her tied legs at the barrier between her and their seats.

Buel hopped into the driver's side and started up the van. Trask smiled to himself, knowing that he was about to make a huge bust; catching some of the highest wanted mutants in the U.S.

He looked back at the pathetic little surf shop as Buel put the van into gear. The fat little nuisance of a dog was still out on the back deck where Buel had thrown him after he'd been bitten. It was barking ferociously, sticking its head through the bars as if to jump through. Commander Trask sneered and flipped off the dog as they drove away.

* * *

When John woke up, he was lying alone in his bed, and he could hear the shower running.

_Oh shit_, he thought. _What did I do?_

Of course, he remembered immediately what he'd done… Eva.

But what now? How would Eva react? She would have to go back to Florida soon and this would seem like a meaningless hookup.

Was it? No. Sure, he was definitely attracted to her, but there was more than that. She understood him. Not to mention she knew everything about him now, which absolutely no one else did.

He sighed as he rolled over and looked at the digital clock shining on the nightstand; 10:48. He decided that a hot steamy cup of coffee was in order; something he hadn't indulged in for quite some time.

So he threw on some sweats he found in the old dresser and his ratty t-shirt and went upstairs. He wandered around the kitchen aimlessly until he finally found a mug and the coffee pot. As he dragged the pot out of its holder, a puff of steam rose from the bottom, sizzling happily as it did.

The sight brought his memory back to last night; Eva, moving as if she were on just another wave. Her fingers lacing in his and gripping him tightly. His skin heating up with the passion and her moisture-rich skin actually steaming when she touched him.

"Ooooo," he heard from behind him, and he jumped and spun around to see Paul smiling wickedly.

Paul walked up to him, clapping him none-too-gently on the back. "Nice," he said.

"What?" John asked, trying to mask his previous thoughts from showing on his face.

"Dude," Paul began, pulling the pot from John's hand and pouring himself a cup of coffee. "You have sex face. You might wanna try to cover that up better if you don't wanna get a ration of shit from all the guys in the house."

"Is it really that obvious?" John asked as he took the pot back and poured himself a cup.

"Dude, when you live in a house full of mostly guys, you learn to figure out when one of them gets laid," Paul said, smiling as he pulled a bag of bagels from the pantry.

John laughed. "Yeah, I guess so," he said, grabbing a sugar packet from a canister and pouring it in his coffee. "My previous roommate never got any, so I guess I'm not real good at noticing."

Paul laughed. "You won't have that problem here," Paul said, drinking his coffee straight black.

"You drink your coffee black?" John asked, wincing.

"Just like my soul," Paul replied, and John laughed again. He never saw Paul's little comments coming until he'd already snorted something. He loved that about him.

"Morning," came another voice, and the two of them turned to see Donovan, with what resembled the worst case of morning hair John had ever seen.

"Nice hair," John said as he took a sip of his coffee.

"Nice sex face," Donovan retorted without missing a beat.

"_Damn_," John said, smiling. "How do you guys _do _that?"

"Well, there are only two things that can make a guy have that flat, 'lights are on but nobody's home' look. The first is sex, the other is mental retardation. And judging by the fact that you seem pretty normal, you must have gotten laid," Donovan said, popping a bagel into the toaster.

John just sighed and took another sip of his coffee. "Why aren't you asswipes in class?" John asked, perturbed.

"Just got out for the summer last week," Donovan said.

"Damn," John joked, and Donovan slugged him (which felt like the equivalent of being hit by a moth). "So where's Wanda?"

"Work," Donovan said, pulling his bagel from the toaster and cream cheesing it up. "She starts at seven, gets off at two."

"Where's she work again?" John asked, putting a second packet of sugar in his coffee.

"Independent Records, downtown," Donovan said as he turned around and leaned against the counter and raised his bagel.

The whipping sound that signified Pietro filled the kitchen, and John remotely noticed a flash of white.

"Aw, man!" Donovan groaned, and John turned back to him.

Where his bagel had previously been, there was sticky note reading "Thanks man. I owe you one."

Donovan sighed in defeat, and slapped the sticky note onto the counter as he angrily threw another bagel into the toaster. John couldn't help but smile to himself.

"Hey," came a female voice, and all three of them turned to see Eva, her hair sopping wet, in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"Bye," both Donovan and Paul said at the exact same time, and quickly left the kitchen to give what they probably considered as "the love birds" some privacy.

"Morning," John said as Eva walked farther out of the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Morning," she replied. "So um… I was wondering…" she paused, obviously looking for words.

"What now?" he finished for her, and her shoulders slumped.

"Yeah," she said, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Well," John said, putting down his coffee. "I'd love for… whatever it is we have to be more. But I… I kind of have this problem with abandonment, and if you're just gunna go back to Florida…"

"I know," she said, finger-combing her hair. "But I… I really like you, John. I know that sounds so juvenile, but when I think about leaving… I just get this pit in my stomach. I feel like leaving you would be a big mistake. Am I scaring you, here?" she asked.

"No, not at all," he said. "On the contrary, I felt the same way when we were trying to leave Florida without you."

"Well," she said, sauntering forward. "Why don't we just let the path unfold, then? What happens happens. Maybe I will leave. But it doesn't have to be soon. And why not be together while I'm here?" she asked.

John smiled and stepped forward. "I'd like that," he said, and she visibly relaxed.

"Me too," she said, and kissed him sweetly.

"Not to be a buzzkill," came Donovan's voice, and the two of them turned to see him leaning his head around the corner. "But my bagel's gunna burn."

John laughed and stepped back in the typical "come on in" motion. Eva smiled as she took his hand in hers behind her back.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

**An Unexpected Breakfast Guest**

Eva smiled as she watched John throwing together haphazard ingredients to make breakfast. It looked more like toilet water than eggs, but he was trying.

He had informed her that the only thing he really knew how to cook were omelets, so she decided to let him try. Judging by how it was going… that might have been a mistake.

"I haven't had to cook anything since Xavier's, gimme a break," he sighed as he attempted to flip the omelet and failing.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with what you're doing," she said, trying to mask the giggle in her voice.

"You sure you don't want help?" Paul asked from the nook table.

"Hey, can't you see I'm trying to cook breakfast for my lady friend?" John said in his best Italian-mobster voice. "It just wouldn't be the same if somebody else did it, eh?"

Eva smiled. She had instantly fallen for his good looks and quick wit, but she was finding more and more that she liked about him every day. He wasn't just some shallow, pathless loser. He was deep, and much more intelligent than he let on. And the fact that he had shared his deepest, darkest secret with her made her feel… special.

At first, she had thought that maybe she had just been physically attracted to him. That her life had quickly spiraled downhill, and that she was just filling that void with… John. But the more she thought about it, the less true that turned out to be. She'd only known him for a little over a week and a half, but it seemed like she knew him inside and out. And vice versa.

She laughed as he attempted to flip the omelet again, and half of it spilled over the side of the pan and onto the stove.

"Let me do that," she said, stepping forward and pulling the pan from his hand. "Before it ends up all over the floor. Plus, I'm made to cook, remember. Just let me do this."

John sighed in defeat and took a seat next to Paul at the nook table. John stared at Eva for a while, admiring the profile, before turning to look at Paul.

"So, you got a special double X somewhere?" John asked.

"Pardon?" Paul replied, pretending to read the paper, but holding it upside down.

"XX, the female chromosome," John said.

"Oh, yeah," Paul said. "Her name's Kelly. She's a mutant too."

"Really?" John asked, watching out of the corner of his eyes as Eva perfectly flipped a new omelet.

"Yeah, she has wings," Paul replied, to which John's eyes grew. "But not like that one kid… don't remember his name. You know, the son of the guy who came out with the cure?"

"Angel, yeah," John said. He remotely remembered seeing him on Alcatraz.

"Yeah," Paul replied. "Hers are like a butterfly's, kind of. She chose the name Tink for herself, as in Tinkerbell. It really does make her look like a fairy sometimes. In a smokin' hot way, if you catch my meaning."

John laughed as he looked over at Eva again. "Yeah… I do."

Eva smiled at the insinuation, and dumped the perfectly formed omelet onto a plate. "Wanna share?" she asked, pulling out two forks.

John smiled as he took a fork and dug into the omelet, which was perfect.

"So," he said, turning to face Donovan and a bed-ridden Scott. "What about you two?"

Both of them stopped eating their bagels and looked up at John in a "should we tell him" sort of manner.

"What?" John asked. "It's not like I'm gunna make fun of you or anything. I mean, Christ, I only met Eva last week, and look how that turned out."

Eva slugged him on the arm and he smiled his best innocent smile at her.

"No, it's not that," Scott said in his commanding, alpha voice. "It's just…"

John was getting tired of the skirting around the topic. "What, spit it out already!"

"They both go to Xavier's school," Donovan said, and John choked on his omelet.

"You're kidding me, right?" John said once he'd washed down his vengeful bite. "You guys are dating some goody-two shoes?"

"Yes," Scott said, straightening. "Got a problem with it?"

"No not at all," John quipped back, his temper short. "I just didn't know I'd moved into a house full of pussies."

He'd meant it as half a joke, but apparently Scott didn't take it that way. He straightened and gave John the whole "come on, let's fight about it; see who wins," look.

"Hey," Eva said, tossing both of them a warning glance. "This house is falling apart as it is, let's not tear it apart with testosterone."

Scott narrowed his eyes, but went back to leaning against the counter to enjoy the rest of his bagel.

"Well," John began again, this time looking at Dono. "Names?"

Donovan sighed. "Kitty," he said.

John wholeheartedly choked again. "Kitty _Pryde,_ Kitty?"

Donovan straightened. "You know her?"

"Know her?!" John said. "Hell, the girl was practically my roommate back at Xavier's!"

"Well good," Donovan said, somewhat defensive. "Then you obviously already know how awesome she is."

Awesome wouldn't have been the word John used. "What about you?" he asked Scott, in the nicest way possible.

"Tracy," he said, watching for John's reaction.

He'd at least taken enough care to not be eating this time. "Cassidy?" he asked.

"That's the one," Scott replied.

John thought back to the day Siryn had gone with them to Six Flags but hadn't been allowed to ride roller coasters because she might scream.

"Yeah, know her too," John said, nodding in disbelief. "Who's Pietro dating? Hilary Clinton?"

"He's single, if you're interested," Paul said, to which everyone laughed. Paul always knew how to turn an awkward situation into a humorous one.

A few minutes later, Dominic and Billy joined them, both bearing a heavy case of bed-head. For a few hours, they discussed other topics: Billy, what his story was, Dom, why he didn't talk. Pretty much everything under the sun. They had no idea that their peace would soon be shattered.

* * *

The whole team was silent as the caravan pulled down side streets toward the old boarding house. Commander Trask was silently thankful that the house was secluded in a wooded area, other wise someone might hear the chaos that was about to ensue.

He looked down at the manila folder he had retrieved from Headquarters when they'd dropped off the young lady named Adalia. The flight to New York had been quick and efficient, and he was positive that they would have the element of surprise.

He hadn't known, however, that he'd be making such a huge bust. The kids in that house were loaded with criminal records.

First there was his main target, John Allerdyce, a.k.a. Pyro; murder, arson, robbery, assault, grand theft auto, defacing public property, you name it. Then there were his secondary targets, Billy Hamilton and Dominic DeVega. Both had charges of murder to their names, as well as assault on a federal officer.

But the others he hadn't known he'd be catching. Not to say it was an unwelcome surprise, though.

Scott and Donovan Steynburg; rioting, assault with a deadly weapon, larceny. Paul Cass; murder, assault, rioting, and the most surprising and quite humorous- indecent exposure.

The next two were Pietro and Wanda Maximoff, both of whom bore the charges of burglary and robbery. However, the woman's went on far longer; murder, assault, rioting, defacing public and private property, arson, resisting arrest, and grand theft auto.

Commander Trask almost yelled in joy at all the criminals he would be bringing to justice.

"How far, sir?" Agent Buel asked.

Just down this road, and park," the Commander said, closing the folder. "We don't want them hearing us coming. It's just another block down this road."

Buel nodded and sent the order out to the many vans that were following them, as well as the big truck. They weren't taking any chances.

Once parked, all the men silently climbed out of their unmarked vans and began preparing their weapons.

"What kind of rounds, sir?" another local NSA officer asked, one whose name Trask hadn't bothered to find out.

"We're not authorized to use lethal rounds," Trask said, but his disappointment was evident. "But…" he continued, and the men paused. "Bring a few clips, just in case."

All the men nodded and began loading their black bulletproof vests with any and all ammo. Trask smiled at how incredibly well this was going.

One block down the road, and the house was in view. Trask furrowed his brow in disappointment when he noticed that one of the cars from his aerial photograph of the home was missing.

_Oh well,_ he thought. _Some is better than none._

He gave the order to spread out, and the men did so. He raised his own gun, aiming the tranquilizer gun into the kitchen window, where he counted seven mutants.

_Perfect,_ he thought. He trained his gun on the familiar form of John Allerdyce, and gave commands for his other agents to train their weapons on the others.

Trask held his comm. device to his lips, counting backwards from five.

"_Five,"_ he whispered. "_Four. Three. Two…"_

"Fire!"


	21. Chapter 21

Ok, I want to warn some of you that, since I got out for the summer from class, I've become a bit more busy. So the chapters might slow down a bit, to not every day. I realize that this is a REALLY bad part for that to start happening, but please bear with me. They'll keep comin, I promise!

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 21 **

**Fight for Life**

"Yeah, it was actually random chance that I met her," Donovan was explaining as to the circumstances of his and Kitty's meeting. "We obviously go to different schools, but there's a really cool local coffee shop downtown. I know, coffee shop, cliché. But I like coffee. Anyway… I ran into her outside but… nothing happened. She just… ended up on the other side of me. Luckily nobody else saw, but we got to talking… obviously we had the mutant thing in common."

"It's just so weird to think of Kitty Pryde… dating. I mean, we were always just a group of friends. I mean, Bobby and Rogue were dating, but it was like they were just friends since _nothing_ ever happened," John said.

Donovan nodded. "She's probably grown up a lot since you saw her last. She's actually got a job downtown near that coffee shop."

John scoffed. "Well," he said. "At least she can afford to illegally buy her _own_ booze now."

Everyone gave him a strange look, but he waved it off with an "it's a story for another time" wave.

Just as there was a silence brewing in the conversation, Donovan gasped and collapsed backward against the counter. Scott was immediately there to catch him, holding him steady as he stared straight ahead, panting heavily.

"What is it, Dono?" Scott asked, worry evident in his voice. "What did you see?"

As soon as Donovan's eyes focused again, they widened in terror. "Get down!" he yelled, dropping to the floor immediately.

Back at Xavier's, John would have instantly questioned him, but he'd learned better in his time with Magneto. When someone says duck, you hit the fucking deck.

John did a swift pirouette in his chair, grabbing Eva on his way down. The instant he hit the ground, maelstrom broke out. He could hear, see, and feel the glass windows of the kitchen shattering inwards on top of all of them. The next thing he noticed was the fact that Paul slid down to his knees in front of his chair, hand held to his neck on top of what looked like some kind of dart. His vision quickly became unfocused, and he fell forward, barely caught by Donovan.

"Tranquilizers," Donovan said, pulling the dart out of a now passed out Paul.

Scott gritted his teeth from his spot on the floor on the opposite side of the kitchen. He held up both his hands toward the windows, and they immediately replaced themselves. Another round of darts hit the windows, but this time they didn't even dent.

"Bullet proof," Scott said, rocketing to his feet. "Get to the doors and defend them. They'll have no choice but the doors!"

John didn't waste a second. He jumped to his feet, as did everyone else present. But instead of heading for a door, he turned to Eva.

"I want you to get out of here!" he said quickly.

"What?" she gasped. "No, John. I can help you!"

"No," he said flatly. "You're already farther into this mess than you should be. If you get out now, you'll be relatively safe."

"No, I won't leave. I have to help!" she cried back.

"Eva!" he practically yelled, stepping right up into her face. "These guys are highly trained operatives. I've already come to the realization that we are probably going to get caught. I _won't_ be responsible for your capture too."

Just at that moment, Pietro came whizzing down the stairs to stand next to him. "He's right," he said, to which John nodded affirmatively. "Take my car," Pietro continued, holding out a pair of Pontiac keys with a firebird engrained on the handle. "They've already surrounded the house, but if we can draw them out the front, you can make your escape.

"Go to the Independent Records store and tell Wanda what's happened. Do _not_ let her come back here, you understand!" Pietro finished, shoving his keys into Eva's open palm.

"But, I…" she started to protest.

"Please," John begged, flinching at the sound of another volley of darts. "If we get caught, you'll be more use to us out than in. Just go."

Eva sighed, obviously realizing that protesting was futile. She pressed a quick but undeniably passionate kiss on his lips before turning and darting toward the back door.

"Alright boys," John said, brandishing his igniter and fastening it to his wrist. "Time to make a commotion out front!"

John led the way, followed by Scott, Donovan, Pietro, Billy, and Dominic. He tossed a weary look back at Paul, who lie unconscious on the kitchen floor.

"This may be in vain, but I wanna make one thing perfectly clear," John said as he reached the front door, beyond which he could see at least fifteen camo-clad soldiers approaching the house, guns raised.

"We don't back down for nobody," he said, his face set in a scowl. "Give them absolute _hell!_"

* * *

Commander Trask held his breath as the front door opened, and to his surprise, every single one of his targets was there.

He held his comm. to his lips as he slowly inched toward them. "All units to the front, I repeat; all units to the front!"

He lowered his gun as the six mutants stepped tentatively out the front door.

"You just come nicely, and nobody gets hurt," Trask called to them as his team converged around them. "Let's not make this difficult or people _will_ get hurt."

"See, there's where you're mistaken," the mutant called Pyro yelled back. "We _will_ be harmed. We _will_ be treated unfairly, and we _won't_ get a say in what happens to us. But you do have one thing correct."

"And what is that?" Trask called back, secure in the marksmanship of his team.

"People are going to get hurt," the boy called back confidently.

Without warning, Pyro threw two huge streamers of fire equivalent to the explosion of two gas tankers. Most of Trask's men ducked behind their fireproof blast shields, but Trask used the opportunity.

"All units attack!" he yelled, both out to his nearby men, and into his comm.

Some of the men that hadn't been hit by the blasts immediately rushed the small group, but the mutants did something unexpected.

Trask hadn't expected them to be organized, but they were. The speedster, Pietro was his name, took off and began ripping guns from the hands of his men in a flash of white. The glass-creator, Scott, stepped forward and began shattering the blast shields to allow Pyro's flame to access his men. Their suits were flame-resistant, but under that kind of intense heat, nothing is.

Two of the mutants, Trask recognized them as Billy Hamilton and Donovan Steynburg, stepped forward and entered into hand-to-hand combat with some of the men that Quicksilver had already disarmed. The skinny one, Dominic, then began to swing at a few of his other men with what looked like a baseball bat made of pure diamond.

Trask knew he needed some kind of upper hand, but how? Two things had to be done before he could make any headway; the speedster had to be stopped, and they had to extinguish Pyro's flame. He was useless without a fire source.

He tried firing a tranquilizer dart, but they melted in the heat of the flames before they even got to him. And the glass-manipulating mutant immediately crushed the ones that weren't caught in the inferno.

Trask was sure any other agent would have taken many other measures before resorting to this, but he was fed up with these freaks and their self-imagined almighty power.

"Switch to lethal rounds!" he called.


	22. Chapter 22

Ok, so I just realized how long this story is going to be. To fit in the conflict completely and the conclusion that I want to, this story is probably going to be between 35 and 40 chapters, possibly more. So I hope you guys are in this for the long haul. :-]

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 22**

**Tables Turned**

John was fed up with these government mooks. They treated mutants like animals. He'd seen it firsthand. They kept them in cages. Like Mystique before himself and Magneto had rescued her. They did it to Juggernaut, too, and Multiple Man, Billy and Dominic. And they'd done it to him. Threw him in a prison with no trial or explanation. It would have been selfish of him to say he wasn't doing this for revenge, because he was. But there were other reasons.

He wouldn't call himself a hero, or even a revolutionary. He was just a preventative force against mutant inequality. He wouldn't allow them to get away with persecuting mutants relentlessly like they were. Sure it was hidden behind a wall of red tape government cover-ups, but it was still happening. And John would be damned if allowed it to continue.

He sneered as he intensified his flames toward the NSA agents. They had shifted to using metal bullets, but John had learned long ago that if a flame is hot enough, even a speeding bullet would melt before it hit him. The boarding house kids were safely behind his wall of fire, waiting for John to relinquish his flames and allow them to finish off these assholes.

John concentrated on the body heat of the agents on the other side of the flame. Their forms burned red hot in his infrared vision, and he knew that now was the time to attack.

In a single instant, the blaze dissipated, revealing the agents, bent and coughing as they tried to recover from the overwhelming heat. That's when everyone stormed forward.

Scott began shooting glass bullets from his hands, followed by Dominic, who took his best swings at them with his diamond bat. Donovan had no built-in weapon, so he resorted to hand-to-hand combat again, as he had been doing before John had blasted the NSA guys with his flames. Pietro did what he did best; bolt around from one agent to the next, either knocking them down to make attack by someone else easier, or taking their remaining weapons. Billy, as always, refused to use his ability unless it was a last resort, so he was also delivering a pretty good beating to the agents.

But they just kept coming. Not only did it seem like more were showing up, but the ones they took down just wouldn't _stay_ down. It was helping tremendously that Pietro was taking their weapons before they could get any decent lethal shots out, but they were still well trained operatives. And they were just a group of kids, defending an old run-down house.

John immediately targeted what was apparently the leader of the team. He was a big, burly man, but not in a fat way. He was built like a Navy drill sergeant, and his bald head gleamed as he sneered at John. John decided that he was best suited for taking down someone of this man's stature.

But as he was stalking toward the man, he heard an anguished cry of, "Donovan!"

John spun in his spot to see that the agent Donovan had been fighting had hit him in the face with the butt end of his gun. Donovan stumbled to his knees, and the agent whipped his gun around to point it directly at Donovan's face.

John assessed the situation instantly. Scott was in his own battle, although now he was getting beaten pretty badly due to the fact that he was more concerned with his brother. Pietro was nowhere to be seen, and Dominic and Billy were still engaged in a fight. So John decided he had to act. Now.

He flicked his wrist quickly and threw a fireball the size of a small car at the agent, taking extra care to force the flames to avoid Donovan. The man staggered, but didn't catch due to his fire-resistant suit.

John began to walk over, deciding that Donovan was a higher priority than the leader. But he hadn't expected the leader to be stupid enough to come after him.

Just as he raised his hand to blast another inferno at the agent attacking Donovan, the leader rushed up behind John and hit him hard in his side, while his back was turned. John was sure it cracked a rib at least, and he staggered sideways as he tried to regain focus. He immediately flicked his wrist and tossed a blaze backward toward the man blindly, since his eyes were filling with agonized tears. He heard the man yelp and knew he'd gotten him.

He tried to straighten back up, but the pain in his chest blazed so intensely that he doubled back over, his limbs feeling cold and his eyesight getting dark for a moment.

_Yup,_ he thought. _Definitely cracked a rib._

He tried opening his eyes again, but he was too late. The Commander drew back a leg and rammed it into John's side, right into his already injured rib. He would have screamed, but the pain was far too excruciating to allow any kind of noise. He collapsed onto the ground, but he refused to be taken that easily.

He looked up to see the man approaching to stand over him, and realized that there was a tiny opening in his suit; the area where his eyes shown through. John sneered as the man bent over him, apparently expecting that he won.

John heaved his arm upwards, smearing a handful of fire into the man's face. The Commander screamed again, staggering backwards as he grabbed at his face.

John took his newfound time to assess his own damage. He tried to sit up, but immediately blacked out for a few seconds from the pain.

_Alright,_ he thought. _Guess I'll be fighting from down here._

He looked around to see that, due to his brother's distraction, Scott was now fighting a losing battle. Donovan was still down, and there was an agent standing over him, gun drawn, making sure he stayed there.

_Okay, so they've got two. I can still give them a run for their money._

John looked back toward the Commander, but the man had disappeared, hopefully too injured to keep fighting. John smiled as he tried to lean up again, the pain persisting. He groaned as he heaved himself painfully to a sitting position.

Just as he was about to raise his hand to throw another flame a few more agents, he felt something heavy come down on his right hand. He yelped, spinning, quite painfully, to look at whoever was attacking.

It was the Commander. His face was badly burned, but he (unfortunately) could still see. And apparently he'd slammed the butt end of his gun down on John's right hand, on the igniter portion of his wrist-cuff.

In a sudden panic, John quickly crab-crawled away from the man, and began flicking his wrist to test if he'd really destroyed the tiny mechanism in the palm of the cuff that created the spark. Sure enough, only the tiny hiss of gasoline could be heard, and no spark ignited.

John panicked. He whipped his head around, looking for any form of flame; perhaps some of the grass had caught in his initial attack, or maybe one of the agents' suits was still catching.

Nothing. The ground around them was complete dirt, due to the fact that the boarding house kids drove on it every day, and none of the suits had caught.

* * *

The Commander stepped forward, but didn't waste any time. He would have killed to put a _real_ bullet into this kid's head, but he was worth far more alive. So he whipped his tranquilizer from the back of his belt, and fired.

John tried to move away, but he'd already gotten him. The boy pulled the dart out of his chest, but Trask knew it was already too late. John barely had time to look up at him in horror before the dart kicked in.

Trask sighed, knowing full well that this task still wasn't even close to over. He turned around to find that his team now had Donovan and Scott Steynburg in custody, as well as Dominic. He smiled as he noticed that Billy was still fighting futilely, as was Pietro.

But Trask's smile wiped right off his face as he noticed Billy doing something. He had grabbed agent Buel, who he'd been fighting, and was dragging him close.

"Don't look in his eyes!" Trask screamed, but it was too late. His primary officer went limp in Billy's grasp, and the boy turned to fight the next few agents, who went to incredible lengths to avert their eyes.

Trask's anger boiled up. Buel was one of the best. He pulled his Barretta, a standard issue lethal trajectory weapon, and aimed it at the boy.

_I'm not authorized to kill,_ his conscience told him. _But as long as I miss vital organs, I'll be pardoned._

He fired, and the boy screamed and fell to the ground as the bullet sawed through his right shoulder. The other agents didn't waste any time. They rocketed forward, and blindfolded him immediately. The boy continued to whimper from the bullet wound, but didn't move or try to fight back.

_Now the speedster._

"Give it up, Pietro, we've already got all your friends!" Trask called to the white blur, who was still rocketing around knocking over his men and tearing their weapons from their hands.

The boy suddenly stopped right in front of Trask, a look of complete confidence playing across his young, handsome features.

"Why?" the boy asked quickly. "I'm faster than a speeding bullet. What are you gunna do?"

"Care to test that theory?" Trask asked, raising his gun and pressing the nose right into Pietro's chest.

The boy disappeared in a blur, and stopped over by the house.

"Oh, too slow," Pietro chimed, mocking them by pretending to examine his fingernails. "You know…" Pietro began, but one of the agents had fired a tranquilizer.

The boy disappeared again, leaving the dart to embed itself in the wall of the house. The boy reappeared just behind Trask.

"You know, it's rude to interrupt while the grown-ups are talking," Pietro said to the man who'd shot at him, who firmly lost his cool and flipped off the boy.

"Well that's not very nice," Pietro mocked, racing around to stand in front of Trask again. "What I was going to say before," the boy paused, raced up to the man who'd shot at him, said, "I was so RUDELY interrupted," then raced back to Trask. "Was that I could easily run around and knock out every single one of your men, take back all my friends, and go get a nice Caramel Machiatto from Starbucks before you even had time to notice I'd left."

"Like I said," Trask said smoothly. "Let's test that theory."

The boy considered for a moment, then took off, and Trask noticed that some of his men were dropping like flies. But there was one thing Pietro didn't know, and that was Trask's Intel.

He knew all about these mutants, and knew all of their weaknesses. The NSA had been keeping tabs on this home and others, unbeknownst to them, for over three years. John, it was his inability to create fire. Dominic, it was his frail condition and weak bones. Pietro…

Pietro had superhearing, due to the fact that he traveled at more than the speed of sound when he tried hard enough. So high frequency sound waves tended to cripple him. They were like standing next to a rocket, for him.

And Trask had come prepared. He whipped out a mechanical-looking whistle. It resembled those old dog whistles that only dogs could hear. But this one was an even higher pitch. One so high that he and his men wouldn't even hear it. But Pietro would.

Trask sneered as he watched the boy racing around attacking his men. He almost laughed as he pressed down on the button, and waited.


	23. Chapter 23

I want to make a note that when I refer to the White House, I'm referring to the X-Men universe's president, President George McKenna. I don't think a black man would persecute a race of people because they're different :-|

* * *

**Chapter 23**

**Destination**

Eva found herself crying as she drove away. It had worked perfectly, but she still felt so empty about leaving. Those NSA guys were just so… daunting.

She wiped her eyes as she pulled out a map from the glove compartment and found the record store. It had been circled in red pen on the map, and Eva sped faster as she neared. What was she going to do? If those six guys couldn't defend against the NSA, how was she going to help get them out? She was just one person! Well, she'd soon have Wanda, but then they'd just be _two_ people.

_No,_ she thought to herself. _I'm sure everything worked out. I'm sure they fought off those NSA guys and everything will be fine._

_Who am I kidding? These guys are trained military men with connections going all the way up to the White House!_

Eva could feel herself panting into a panic, and just told herself to keep it together until she got to the record store.

She was pretty sure she was still going 70 when she hit the parking space, but she didn't care. She simply threw the car into park, and rocketed into the store, where she found three customers, Wanda, and another employee who looked exactly like Wanda.

The minute Wanda saw her, her "I'm talking to customers" smile vanished, and she quickly said, "Would you excuse me?"

She rushed over quickly, her chunky black boots clicking on the tile floor.

"What's wrong!" she hissed, obviously noticing how disheveled Eva was.

Eva tried to speak, but was panting too hard. "NSA… soldiers… the boarding house…"

Wanda figured it out, and her eyes widened to the size of baseballs. "We have to go!" she yelped, and started to push past Eva.

"No," Eva said, not bothering to keep her voice down. "Pietro told me not to let you. They said they were probably going to get caught, and that we were their only escape plan if they did."

"I can't just do nothing!" Wand practically yelled, and the customers nonchalantly began to wander away from the two of them.

"We have to!" Eva replied. "For their sakes."

"Well how in hell will we know where they take them? What they're going to do with them…" Wanda said, rubbing her temples in distress. "I mean… this is my _brother_ we're talking about!"

"I know, and it's my…" Eva paused, wondering if 'boyfriend' was the correct word to use on John.

"Fuckbuddy?" Wanda finished for her.

"This is no time for jokes," Eva said, but realized Wanda hadn't been kidding. "Whatever. I think what we should do is try to get information on NSA bases, and see where the highest security ones are located. They'll probably take them to one of those."

"Oh, what, the internet?" Wanda gasped, incredulous. "I can see it now, Google search: unfair and completely demeaning mutant research facilities with terroristic tendencies. I don't think we're going to find anything! Not on a highly secretive government agency!"

"Well what do you suggest we do?" Eva practically yelled, her panic getting worse.

"I'm going back to the house," Wanda said plainly. "With or without you."

John slowly began to wake, and the first things he noticed were the incredible pain in his chest, the tight restraints on his hands and ankles, and the hard, slightly jostling ground beneath him. A truck, maybe?

He opened his eyes to a dim lit, oblong room that, sure enough, looked just like the inside of a tractor-trailer. He realized that he was seated, painfully, against one wall, and the restraints on his hands were keeping him there. As he peered around, he realized how badly they'd truly faired in the fight.

Billy was lying down, his hands and ankles tied as well, but there was a bleeding wound in his right shoulder that John undoubtedly identified as a gunshot wound. There was a tightly tied blindfold covering his eyes, but John didn't need to see his eyes to tell he was in pain. Next to Billy was Donovan, who had his head bowed in his bound hands, and there was obviously blood coming from his face where he'd been hit by the butt-end of that gun. Right next to Donovan, looking concerned and pissed, was Scott. He didn't appear to have any visible wounds, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. Lying just beyond him was Paul, still unconscious, apparently still drugged.

To John's left was Dominic, who was breathing rather strangely; panting with a slight wheeze. And to John's right was Pietro.

His arms and legs were bound much more tightly than the rest of them, and there were cuts, scrapes, and bruises covering most of the visible skin.

"What happened to you?" John asked, and it sounded like he'd just swallowed a bucket of rusty nails.

"Fell," he choked out, trying not to move much as he turned his head to look at John. "While I was running. He used a high frequency whistle. I never told you this, but I have superhearing. High frequency sound waves are crippling to me."

John furrowed his eyebrows in response, but decided not to talk, due to the immense pain in his ribs.

"How long have I been out?" he asked, looking back at the rest of the group.

"Hard to tell," Scott replied. "But we've been in this truck for at least a few hours."

John could tell Scott was angry; angry they'd been caught, angry his brother was hurt. John was too. But assuming Eva got out okay, they'd have an escape plan… hopefully.

"You okay, Dono?" John asked, and Donovan finally looked up.

There was a cut running from just above his left eye to a little below it, and the blood was starting to dry.

"No," he murmured. "I can't see out of my left eye."

John stared for a moment. "Hopefully you'll get your vision back when we get some medical help."

"_If_," Scott corrected loudly. "If we get medical help."

John remembered when he'd been caught the first time. It hadn't really been fair, but he'd received medical attention for his concussion.

"They helped me last time," John replied.

"I don't think they're taking us back to the IFCM," Billy said.

John was surprised to hear Billy talking at all. But he was still gritting his teeth.

"Why not?" John asked.

"They send the ones they really despise somewhere else," Billy said. "And judging by the fact that we've constantly pissed them off on a daily basis… I don't think they'll just send us back to their makeshift prison."

John wanted to ask, "then where _are_ they sending us?" but something inside him told him he didn't want to know.

He wouldn't know how right he was until they arrived at… wherever they were headed. It hadn't been a long enough drive to leave the state of New York, but it was definitely a long way from Bayville.

John squinted against the blinding light that poured in when the back door was wrenched open. At least four men stepped up into the truck, one of them coming for John. He started to crawl away, but a searing pain blazed up his sides and throughout his lungs. He gasped, stilling all movements in the process.

But the relief didn't last long, because the man unhooked John's restraints from the side of the truck, and hoisted him to his feet. John would have screamed in pain if he could have. He noticed more men pouring into the truck to escort everyone else. They, too, were not very gentle.

Their escorts practically dragged them out of the truck, and John barely had time to notice that the truck was backed into some kind of room the size of an airplane hangar. Their burly escorts had just dragged them down the hall to a large garage door leading into a smaller hallway, when a woman stepped in front, blocking their path.

John recognized her as Dr. Quincy Fallon, the woman who had treated him for his concussion when he'd been caught the first time.

"Did you have to be so abusive?" she asked, and John noticed the Commander he had fought approaching from behind him. His face was still badly burned, but apparently most of it was just black from the burn, and not actually damaged. John silently cursed himself for not causing a worse burn.

"I do what is necessary," the Commander replied, smiling wickedly at her. "These subjects were being difficult."

"I'm sure they were," she said, looking at John. "But you didn't have the authorization to use lethal ammunition or brutal force."

"And how exactly am I supposed to _catch_ mutants of this caliber _without_ such force?" the Commander snapped back.

Dr. Fallon opened her mouth to retort, but the Commander interrupted. "I have orders to take these mutants to the director, ma'am," he snapped. "If you have a problem with it, you can take it up with him."

"Yes, I do have a problem," she said. "These mutants are injured and need medical attention."

"Straight to the director, ma'am," the Commander said icily. "Those are my orders."

Dr. Fallon looked like she might rip the Commander a new one, but she held her tongue as the group was lead past her, and down the long hallway.

Great, John thought. Straight to the director. We must be a high priority. And not in a good way.

* * *

Ok, so I wanted to let you guys know that I made a tribute video for this! I cast people that look like the character in my head, not necissarily actors. Actually, quite a few of them are _not_ actors. But I digress. Please check it out, it took me several days to create :-]

Obviously, you take out the parenthesis. I just added those because FF won't allow true links.

www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=sVYbnvWfhvw

Oh, by the way, the casting is as follows: John/Pyro- Aaron Stanford (obvi), Eva/Leviathan- Jordana Brewster, Wanda/The Scarlet Witch- Pauley Perrette, Pietro/Quicksilver- Ryan Gosling, Scott/Kingpin- Jeremy Davis of Paramore, Donovan/Oracle- Craig Orejnik, Paul/Requiem- Russell Brand, Billy/Mephistopheles- Billy Martin of Good Charlotte, Dominic/Alchemy- Dan Torelli of Madina Lake.


	24. Chapter 24

First I wanna begin by saying that I am SO SO SO sorry for the delay. First there was a horse show, then my horse got sick and had to go to a specialist for a few days. I just haven't been home. But now I'm back, so enjoy!

**

* * *

**

Chapter 24

**The Island**

John stumbled as the group of them were practically dragged down a long, brightly lit hallway. All John could think about was the pain. He could hardly take in breath due to the piercing in his side, and he knew that a rib had to be cracked, if not broken. He could barely concentrate on the things that he should have been worrying about. Such as where they would be taken now, if they were going to get medical help at all, and the most important thing- how in hell they were going to get out of this mess.

John's escort, led by Commander Trask, huffed as he pushed through a heavy metal door into what looked like a giant office/surveillance room. There was a huge oak desk that resembled the resolute desk. Behind that was a plush office chair; capable of spinning around to face a wall of small, probably 8x10 television screens. The seat was spun around, facing the screens. The screens themselves stretched at least ten feet across, and went from ceiling to floor. But there were two things that caught John's attention.

The first was the images flashing across those screens. A few were just image surveillance; the kind that take a picture every minute or so and transmit the image back to the screen. Those were showing people, presumably mutants, situated in small rooms resembling cells. The screens that showed live video feed were far more disturbing. They looked like operating rooms, and there were doctors filling each one, performing questionable, probably experimental surgeries on their seemingly mutant patients. John noticed Dominic gasp when he saw them and turn quickly away, looking terrified.

The second thing that drew John's attention was the nameplate on the desk. It was a wood plate, the name on it having been embedded in silver lettering. It was slid into another silver holder, and the name shone like a new nickel…

Dir. Howard Summers.

_Summers?_ John thought. _Not _the_ Summers… as in Scott Summers. No way Cyclops's father is in charge of this shit._

But John's doubts were quelled when the chair spun around to reveal an older-looking businessman, his hands steepled over his lap, his face bearing a tremendous likeness to the late Cyclops.

"Ah, you must be Pyro," he said, his voice sounding slick, like that of a dirty cop, or even an entrepreneur gone bad.

"Actually they call me Tater Salad," John snipped back.

Director Summers glared at John, but John didn't get long to enjoy it. The man holding him punched him in the chest for the snide comment.

John doubled over as the pain of his injured rib seared through his lungs and chest. He coughed as best he could, and noticed a gurgling sound. _Great._ That meant blood in his lungs. _Not_ a good sign.

"While I appreciate your sarcasm," Summers said, obviously meaning the opposite. "It would serve you well to refrain from such things."

John could have thought of a thousand good retorts, but for the sake of his ailing ribs, opted not to.

"I am Howard Summers, the Director of this facility, and all it's sub-counterparts. We are an organization for the experimentation of mutants for the betterment of humankind."

"You mean _exploitation,_" John said, unable to stop the comeback.

John's escort grunted, but didn't hit him again, much to John's pleasure.

"If it works. You see, I've come to realize that in gifting mutants with abilities, God has put the rest of humanity at an unfair disadvantage. And so I took it upon myself the find a way to spread these gifts to other, less privileged human beings."

John merely listened in disgust.

Director Summers paused for a moment, standing to pace back and forth behind his desk. "And you," he continued, throwing a revolted look at John. "Have begun to jeopardize everything that I have worked so diligently for over the last twenty-five years."

"What, by easily escaping that pathetic excuse for a prison of yours?" John asked, trying not to make it sound harsh to avoid more abuse.

"Partially," Summers responded. "First of all, you put the notion in the heads of my captive mutants that they are being held unlawfully, which isn't true. Each and every incarcerated mutant at my facilities has enacted some form of crime. They _deserve_ to be here. And second, you made them believe that they could get out and fight my system. Resulting in pain on my side and on theirs. But mostly on theirs."

John narrowed his eyes. "They may not be held unlawfully, but they are being held without due process!" he said, his voice rising despite the fear of his abusive escort. "We got no trial, and we sometimes aren't even informed of our crimes!"

"Ah, yes," Summers said coolly. "But you see, convicting each one of you cesspools would take years. Years that our military and medical systems, which can and are benefiting greatly from my progress, are not willing to wait. Therefore they allow us to bypass the miles of red tape and court hearings that are sure to follow."

"But you can't just…" John began to argue.

"Ahhh, but I _can_," Director Summers said acidly, smiling a wicked smile at the group of them. "And I have recently come to the decision that the lot of _you_," he said, looking around at all of them is distaste, "can cause more harm than development in my system. Therefore, I've decided to discard of you in the only _legal_ way available to me."

Summers paused, his gaze grazing over them to look at Comander Trask, who was standing behind them in the typical "at ease" position.

"The Island," Summers commanded.

Before John could even register the smug look on Trask's face, he was surprised by movement… and something else, from Dominic.

Dom began thrashing against his escort wildly, complete and sheer terror playing through his eyes. But it was something else he did that bewildered John.

Dominic began screaming as he thrashed, saying over and over, "no."

John was too bewildered to even register that this was the first thing he'd ever heard from Dominic.

Dom's escort was surprised by the outburst but, due to Dom's small size, easily held onto his upper arms.

"Don't let them take you there!" Dominic screamed to the rest of them, kicking and trying to punch at his escort.

"Contain him, will you?" Summers said smoothly, as if he saw this kind of thing every day.

In one smooth movement, Dominic's escort released one of Dom's arms, and pressed on what was apparently the pressure point on the back of Dominic's neck.

The skinny boy immediately fell limp, his screaming halting with him. John knew Dominic didn't just blow up for no reason. So this Island place must be _really_ bad. John was just about to fight back when he felt a sharp piercing in his upper arm. He quickly looked down to see a needle being inserted into his skin, and immediately realized that his vision was going hazy. As he turned to try and warn the others, he realized that they, too, were all drooping in their captors' arms, having been drugged as well.

* * *

Eva gripped the armrests of the Firebird as Wanda sped back to the house. If Eva thought _she'd_ been driving like a lunatic before, Wanda was Mario Andretti. She sped through stop signs, stoplights, and even busy pedestrian crosswalks. Eva was an only child, so she didn't know you might actually kill someone for your sibling.

Wanda pulled the Firebird to a cranking stop a few blocks from the house, just in case the NSA guys were still there. She jumped out quickly, making sure to quietly shut her door before hurriedly walking toward the house. Eva followed briskly, her head whipping around as she looked and listened for any sign of the enemy.

However it became painfully clear that they had long since cleared out when they approached the house.

"Pietro!" Wanda yelled, miraculously managing to run toward the house in her three-inch heeled boots.

Eva followed, but nearly ran into the back of Wanda when she skidded to a halt a few feet from the house.

"What…" Eva began to ask, but her eyes quickly followed Wanda's to a spot on the gravel.

Before them was a littering of bullets in the exterior of the house; real bullets, not those darts they'd been using when Eva left. Smears of blood were scattered across the gravel, and as Eva's eyes wandered, she saw many more speckled all over the front carport pad of the house, as well as in the surrounding area.

"Oh God," Wanda gasped. "Pietro!"

She stormed into the house, and Eva quickly followed, not believing how much blood was all over the place. But the interior of the house wasn't much better.

On the floor, at the base of every window, was a plethora of shattered glass. Wanda frantically searched through each room as Eva did the same. Eva ran to her left, into the kitchen, and Wanda ran into the living room.

The kitchen was much the same; shattered glass at the base of every window, but they had all obviously been replaced by Scott. Eva remembered Scott replacing them just before she left, making the doors the only viable entrances.

Eva heard Wanda's clunking footsteps thundering up the stairs, and Eva kept looking around for any sign they'd made it out okay. She hurried down into the basement, where she found it just as deserted as the rest of the house. She sighed in defeat as she hurried back upstairs to find Wanda in a panic; rubbing her temples as she paced frantically through the living room.

"What do we do now?" Eva asked hopelessly.

"Well," Wanda stammered, still pacing. "My yoga teacher says that there's always a solution to problems. We just have to stay calm and think. There has to be a solution. We just have to find it."

Eva had a hard time seeing Wanda do yoga, but she pushed the attempted image to the back of her mind.

"We could…" Wanda began, but obviously didn't have an ending for that statement.

"We have to find out where they took them before we can do anything," Eva offered.

Wanda stopped for a moment, looking at Eva. She then continued her pacing, but in a more concentrated manner.

"You're right," she said, her brows furrowed in thought. "The only places that will have that kind of information are the NSA archives and databases. But we can't… get to those."

"Do you think you could hack in… say, with a computer?" Eva asked. She didn't know the extent of Wanda's ability, but it seemed pretty limitless.

Wanda stopped as she considered. "I guess it's worth a shot," she said. "But we don't have a computer."

"Library," Eva said. "They always have public access computers."

Wanda nodded. "Yeah," she said, sounding more confident as she looked up. "Yeah, that'll work."

She paused as she thought, then a look of determination swept across her face. "We need to get to a library. Fast."


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 25**

**Trapped**

Eva knew absolutely everyone was staring as they entered the downtown library. Wanda was speed walking to the nearest computer, her chunky heels clicking as she made her way through the sea of people. She looked as out of place as the moon strolling through a shining summer afternoon. But Eva couldn't have cared less. All that mattered was finding their guys… their friends… their family.

Thankfully as Wanda approached the table of computers, several people hurried to walk away. Wanda immediately took a seat, and Eva knelt next to her. Wanda exited the library's archive program and pulled up the Internet. She raised a hand to the screen, shut her eyes, and exhaled deeply.

The screen exploded into a bedlam of quickly scrolling images, flashes of light, and gray fuzz. Wanda furrowed her brows, and the images began to slow.

"We're looking for any of the facilities where the NSA would take high priority prisoners," Eva said, not bothering to keep her voice down.

Wanda nodded, and the images slowed again, gradually becoming rows of text.

Eva had been staring at the screen so intently that she hadn't noticed the bespectacled woman approach them from behind.

"Can I help you ladies find something?" the aged woman asked, clearly meaning 'is there any way I can make you leave faster?'

"No, we're fine. Thank you," Eva said hastily.

The woman narrowed her eyes at them, then turned to return to her desk, all the while watching them with scrutiny.

"We need to make this fast," Eva whispered to Wanda, knowing full well that people tended to distrust those who looked like Wanda. But then again, they were hacking into a top-secret government archive, so maybe they deserved the negative bias.

"Almost got something," Wanda said, her eyes still closed.

Just as she finished that statement, the screen stopped dead, showing a screen of text, accompanied by a few pictures… familiar pictures.

"It's John!" Eva gasped.

"It's all of them," Wanda said, her eyes dissecting the text. "I think this is a report from the NSA Commander who captured them. It says they were detained, by force, at 01100 hours. Eleven o'clock this morning," Wanda clarified, looking down at her black spider web watch. "An hour ago. It says they were taken to the Director for an inquiry on their incarceration destination. It says they were sent…"

Wanda's eyes went wide, and her black lips fell open with horror.

"What!?" Eva asked, her curiosity and panic growing. "What is it Wanda? Where are they?"

"It's a facility called The Island. It's really discreet. But for good reason. That's where they take the ones they want to get rid of. The ones they never want to see again," Wanda said, her voice cracking.

"What… what does that mean?" Eva asked.

"They're allowed to do whatever they want to them there. The guards and staff there are usually horribly anti-mutant. And they're granted access to their cells whenever they want it."

"So… what? They abuse them?" Eva gasped.

"That's putting it lightly," Wanda replied, wiping her eyes for what looked like the first hint of tears. "They're mistreated so horribly because they want to get rid of them. They can't legally execute the death penalty because of the legislation passed. But if they 'indiscriminately' disappear from a facility, it's not the NSA's responsibility. It's a deathtrap, Eva," Wanda said, staring her dead in the eyes.

Eva was dumbstruck for a moment until her thought processes returned. "Well where the hell is it?"

Wanda turned back to the computer and placed her hand back on the screen. It filtered through a few more text documents, a few more pictures, then stopped on an information page, with a picture of an aging red-haired man.

Wanda read aloud to herself as she scrolled through the text. "Mr. Mitchell Davis, owner of the Island facility… for imprisonment of high-security mutant prisoners… located…"

She paused as her eyes narrowed. "Off the coast of New York!" Wanda blurted, and everyone near them stared.

"Yeah, but… that's hundred's of miles," Eva said, her shoulders slumping.

Wanda seemed to realize this as well. She turned back to the computer. "These archives are heavily encrypted. Just getting this far has taken me several IP address reroutes, I mean…"

"Just try," Eva begged.

Wanda sighed, and began fishing through the NSA's information again.

"Longitude, latitude. That's what we need," Eva said, looking around at the people who were still staring.

"Got it! Write this down!" Wanda said hurriedly.

Eva grabbed a pencil and piece of paper from the bin that was usually used for writing down a book's location when you go to find it.

Eva quickly scribbled the numbers down, and shoved it in her pocket. "Got it, let's go."

Wanda removed her hand from the screen, and everything immediately vanished, revealing only the blue screen of a Windows operating system.

The two of them turned and bolted out of the library, every eye in the place watching as they went.

"Alright," Eva said, pulling the piece of paper out of her pocket and looking at it. "Well, now we know where they are. But… it's an Island. How're we gunna _get_ there. I mean, I guess I could try to part the sea like Jesus… but I wouldn't even know where I'm going. We need someone who would know how to map these coordinates."

Wanda thought as they crawled back into Pietro's beat up Firebird. "We'll think of that later," Wanda said as the car roared to life. "Right now we're going back to the boarding house. We need weapons."

"You… _have_ weapons?" Eva asked, fairly surprised.

"Honey, look at me," Wanda said as she steered the muscle car quickly out of the lot. "If I didn't have a few machetes and firearms laying around, I wouldn't be doing it right."

* * *

John woke up in chains. The extremely heavy kind. The kind you can hardly lift without a car jack.

He hazily sat up, his vision remaining fuzzy as he tried to focus. He could tell he was lying on cold hard ground, and that his hands were shackled in those ridiculously heavy chains. But that was all he could figure out.

As his vision slowly cleared, he analyzed exactly how deep of a pile of shit he was in.

The room smelled old… stale. Like the air was recycled. It was a small room, probably 8x10 feet. He could make out a small, rectangular window on the wall to his right, and a large metal door to his left. There was what resembled a mail slot on the bottom of the door, which he assumed was for pushing through a measly meal.

_Oh lucky me. Floor scraps._

His chains were bolted to the wall behind him, and judging by the length, he could probably make it to the door to collect his food. That was it.

He sighed, his vision returning to its normal clarity. As he stared back up at the window, he noticed that there were thick iron bars lining it, but there was no glass; only air washing through.

John took a deep breath, only then realizing that he smelled saltwater. He inched closer to the window and heard the sound of waves crashing.

_So I really_ am_ on an island. Peachy. Surrounded by fire's bff._

He decided to give himself a once-over, to make sure he wasn't in worse condition than he had been before. He lifted his arms slowly and realized, with painful precision, that his ribs hurt just as much, if not more than before. He pulled his tattered and bloody shirt up to assess the damage.

There was a huge bruise running from under his lowest rib to almost his nipple, and there was a definite dent in the line of ribs.

_Lovely._

He dropped his shirt and looked around again. The room seemed to be made of some kind of brick, and it wasn't the most hygienic place. The floor was dirty, and the walls looked they had been scratched by wolverine.

John jumped as a bolt screeched on the other side of his door, and it opened slowly. As he watched, a man who he was sure was Vin Diesel's doppelganger stepped in, carrying a tray of what might have resembled food a few years ago, and a nightstick.

"Dinner time, pretty boy," the man said in a deep, threatening tone. John usually wouldn't have been afraid of a guy like this, but as of now, he was completely powerless. So he resorted to backing away at a crawl until his back (and sore ribs) hit the brick wall behind him.

The man smiled as he stepped forward, setting the tray on the ground by the door. He began spinning the nightstick in his hand, smiling wickedly.

John didn't recall ever feeling that much fear in his entire life. He tried to take a deep breath as the man raised the nightstick, but suddenly realized…

Those weren't any random scratches in the brick. They were fingernail marks.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 26**

**Numbers**

Eva tried not to panic as she stood in a small boiler room in the basement of the boarding house, looking at an array of weapons probably more extensive than the Army National Guard.

"How the hell did you guys _get_ all of this?" she asked, exasperated, as Wanda pondered over what to bring.

"It's New York," Wanda replied. "If you've got a little money and intimidation, you can get whatever you want."

"But… you barely have any money," Eva replied, confused.

"Yeah, well," Wanda said, stepping forward and pocketing a small gun. "I'm loaded when it comes to intimidation."

Eva could definitely understand. Wanda was _not_ a person she would want to encounter in a dark alley.

"Here," Wanda said, holding out another one of the guns,and a small pocketknife. "Take these."

"I don't even know how to fire a gun!" Eva gasped as she took the heavy metal firearm and examined it.

"Here, I'll show you the basics," Wanda said, stepping forward. "This is a police-issue Glock 26. This little notch here is the safety. When it's pointing toward the muzzle, it's on. Turn it off."

Eva pulled the tiny latch backward, then looked back to Wanda.

Wanda pulled on something on the side, and the round magazine fell out. "Standard issue 9mm's have a 10 round magazine. We always make sure these are loaded, so you're good to go. See here?"

Wanda pointed to the magazine, and each little chamber held the butt end of a bullet. "That spins when you trigger, setting a round into the chamber. That's where you'll reload. These," Wanda paused, handing Eva a box of ammunition, "are the bullets. Keep 'em in your pocket. Do _not_ loose them. Ten shots definitely won't be enough."

Eva was starting to get cottonmouth just thinking about shooting someone… even if it was a bad guy.

"It'll rebound when you shoot, so make sure you've got a good grip," Wanda finished, checking hers.

"But Wanda…" Eva began, slightly frightened of the angered determination on Wanda's face. "We still don't know how we're getting there! I mean, we can't rent a boat, we don't have any money. I guess we could steal one, but I don't know how to drive it! Do you?"

Wanda sighed, obviously thinking about her brother. "What about that guy that brought the guys to you? He had a boat, didn't he?"

"Gambit?" Eva said. "He went back to Louisiana, no way would he get here in time."

Wanda sighed again in aggravation.

"Besides," Eva said, her own disappointment showing in her voice. "If the NSA caught seven very powerful mutants with little trouble, how are the _two_ of us going to break in, break them out, and get out unscathed? It's impossible!"

Wanda rubbed her temples in obvious distress. "We need help."

* * *

John wasn't sure how much time had passed as he lay there, staring at the stone ceiling of his cell. After the beating he took from that guard, he hadn't felt much like eating, so the platter sat, untouched, right where it was by the giant metal door.

Escape hardly crossed his mind. This place was way less technologically advanced than the IFCM, so there was no possibility of creating a flame. He tried to sigh, but his ribs and lungs screamed in protest, so he resolved to taking shallow breaths and minimizing his movement. He wondered how everyone else was doing, and where exactly they were on this piece of shit island.

Scott was probably furious. John knew Scott had blamed him for the attack. He knew Scott figured he had led the NSA right to them. And at the moment, John kind of figured he had. He was getting fed up with trashing the lives of people who tried to help him.

His thoughts were interrupted as the door screeched open again. He jumped, crawling painfully as far away from the door as possible. But this was a different guard… smaller.

The man wasn't wearing the black uniform of the previous guard, either. This one was wearing a dirty white nurse's robe. But he didn't look like he was here to help much.

"You're coming with me," the man said shortly, stepping forward and unlocking the shackles on John's wrists.

On any other day, in any other situation, John would have said, "make me," but it seemed like a very unintelligent move considering his battered state. So he let the man put a smaller pair of handcuffs on him and lead him out of the cell and into an equally dark, dirty hall.

As he silently followed the man, he was appalled at the amount of doors identical to the one on his cell that were lining the hall.

_There are mutant prisoners in _all_ of these?_ There had to be at least fifty in this one hall alone.

John's pondering was cut short as the man led him into an adjacent room, which turned out to be much bigger than his cell; probably the size of a four-car garage. There was a line of prisoners, all handcuffed, stretching the far wall, and at the end was a metal table, more resembling an anvil, with a single man standing behind it.

However, that wasn't what caught his attention. At the end of the line, where he was being led, stood Scott, Donovan, and Dominic.

"What the hell's going on here?" John whispered as his escort shoved him into the line and told him to stand there "or else."

"You really wanna know?" Scott asked, one hand reassuringly on his (obviously frightened) twin brother.

John decided it was safe to be sarcastic. "No, I change my mind. I only asked to hear the melodic ringing of your pleasant voice."

Scott narrowed his eyes, but opted not to slap John silly due to the guards all around them.

"They're giving us numbers," Scott said, something resembling fear making his voice crack.

"What d'you mean, numbers?" John asked, his subconscious having already figured it out, but his conscious mind unwilling to accept it.

"Tattoos," Scott said, rubbing Donovan's shoulder again.

John's mouth fell open. _I really _am_ becoming Magneto._

It took almost forty-five minutes to traverse the length of the line, but Dominic was soon standing at the anvil, staring at the tattoo gun with surprising calm.

One of the guards stepped forward, grabbing Dominic none too gently, which caused him to stumble a bit. But the guard stopped when he wrenched up Dominic's sleeve.

"He's already got one," the guard said, looking confused.

The man at the anvil just looked up, and stared at Dominic. It was then that a wicked smile slowly began to spread across his face.

"Yeah, he's been here alright," the man said, and a look of pure hatred spread across Dominic's face. "I remember you," he continued, staring at Dominic with a sick smile. "Used to scream a lot, aint that right?"

Without any warning whatsoever, Dominic's hands rocketed to the man's face with surprising force. The man stumbled backward, clutching his face and staring wildly at Dominic. The other guard immediately stepped forward, easily subduing Dominic in a clutch-hold that looked more like a bear hug.

As the guard started dragging Dominic out of the room, Dom decided to give 'em one last parting gift. He spit in the face of the tattooer.

Scott, John, and Donovan all cheered for Dominic as he was dragged forcefully from the room. But their rejoicing didn't last long.

Another guard stepped forward, yanking Scott forward and placing his right arm on the anvil, which suddenly clamped closed, keeping him there.

"Yeah, we'll see how funny you think this is," the man said, stepping forward with his tattoo gun.

"Don't you touch my brother," Donovan practically screamed, throwing himself at the man behind the anvil. John, despite his small dislike of Scott, decided to pitch in. He went for the nearest guard; the one most likely to stop Donovan. He tried to get his cuffs at the guard's neck, but the man was too fast.

The man grabbed both John's wrists, spinning him around so that his arms were crossed against his own chest, and held him in a hold so tight a vice couldn't have done a better job.

It was then that he noticed another guard had easily done the same to Donovan. John watched helplessly as Scott tried to look brave for his brother as the needle came down.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 27**

**5162-878**

John shivered as he, Scott, and Donovan were all dragged from the room. He couldn't accept it. He had just lost his identity… both of them. Now he was a number… just a statistic on some list. It wasn't just the loss of his identity, though. It was his power. Not literally, but metaphorically. All his power, all his credibility, all the stuff he needed to intimidate someone was attached to the name Pyro. People heard that and knew. They knew that they should be afraid. Heard it and knew they should run away. But not anymore. John stared down in disgust at the number sneering up at him from his right forearm…

5162-878.

He was already brewing up a nice strong hatred for those seven numbers. But there was nothing he could do. He had learned from Scott that the NSA had concocted a drug that interfered with the part of the brain that allowed the mutant to access their ability. In essence, temporarily disabling their power. Scott, Paul, Billy, Dom, and Pietro were constantly being kept on this intravenous drug, so they had no hope of escaping on their own. Their fate was up to anyone on the outside… which consisted of Wanda and Eva.

John could tell Scott had given up hope. Hell, so had he. Nobody so much as gave a snide remark to their escorts as they were ushered back down the hall to their cells.

John was awakened from his desperate requiem as he heard a raucous coming down the hall toward them. He looked up and what he saw almost made him laugh and stare in confusion all at the same time.

It was a guard, trying desperately to maneuver his misbehaving female captive down the hall. She was a small girl; probably eighteen at the oldest, with a tiny built and fire engine red hair. Apparently she wouldn't walk on her own, so the guard had grabbed her by her upper arms and was attempting to carry her down the hall.

She was one step ahead of the guard. She began kicking wildly at him, hitting him several times in the unmentionables with her heels. He attempted to hold her farther away from his body, to which she then came up with a new method. She threw her legs out to the walls, managing to get one arm on the other wall and try to push against them so hard that the man couldn't walk. He sighed in frustration as he used brute strength to push her onward.

John's guard had already unlocked his cell, so he shoved him inside it to make way for the misbehaving prisoner. The guard didn't shut the door immediately, so he watched the girl frantically fighting as she was pushed down the hall. He could see Scott's and Donovan's escorts pushing them against the wall to make way, but the girl was, again, one step ahead of them.

She reached out and grabbed Scott's hand, holding on tightly as she looked back at him.

"Don't you let these assholes break you!" she said in a tiny, yet demanding voice. Her escort yanked her hand away from Scott, who looked like his soul had just been ripped from his body as he watched the little fighting girl get dragged away. "Fight back!" she screamed.

John didn't get to see what happened next, because his guard entered and pushed him over to the wall, where he painfully slammed into the brick, reminding him of his injured ribs. The guard removed the handcuffs and put the heavy chains back on. John would have killed for a spark at that moment. Just burn the guy's face right off, see how powerful he thought he was then. But of course, he could do nothing as the guard sneered at him and turned to slam the giant metal door.

John sighed in defeat as he looked out the window, which revealed black sky, cold air, and the dooming sound of the waves crashing against The Island.

_Day one. Of how many?_

* * *

Eva didn't know who to turn to. They couldn't go to the government because hey… this _was_ the government who was doing all of this. She could call Remy, but in the time it took him to _get_ to New York, it might already be too late. What was left of Magneto's brotherhood had scattered after the battle of Alcatraz, so contacting any of them would be near impossible. Eva's mind was only coming up with one solution, and she wasn't sure Wanda would fall for it.

So, as Wanda paced in the dark living room (they didn't want to risk turning on lights and drawing attention back to the house), Eva snuck upstairs.

She tried to remember the location of each person's rooms from the tour she'd gotten from Wanda when they first arrived. She was… truthfully, she had been watching John's butt as he had walked down the hall. So the "whose room is who's" data hadn't really stuck.

But she decided to just pick one. Thankfully, it was one of the ones she wanted. She tried not to notice the Playboy on the floor as she rummaged around through belongings.

_Phone, phone, phone. If I were a phone, where would he put me?_

She pulled open a drawer in the nightstand, and again tried to ignore a few Playboys as she pushed things around.

_Aha!_

She grabbed the phone and ran back downstairs. She flipped open the Razr and scrolled through the names as she entered the living room, where Wanda was still pacing. She stopped when she saw Eva.

"What're you doing with Scott's phone?" she asked, approaching questioningly.

"I have an idea. You probably won't like it, but it's our only shot," Eva said, finding the correct name, and pressing "send."

She waited for only a moment, then a female voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hi. Is this Tracy?" Eva asked.

"Uh," the girl responded, obviously confused as to why she was listening to a girl instead of her boyfriend. "Yes. Who's this?"

"My name is Eva. Listen, there's been an emergency. The NSA has taken Scott and everyone else prisoner. Do you know what the NSA is?" she asked.

Tracy sounded mortified and confused. "Um, yes. But how? No one knew they were living there."

"Well… I guess they tracked me. I came up from Florida with a few guys that were gunna live here and… I guess they followed us. But that's not the point," Eva continued, speaking quickly and deliberately avoiding using John's name. "They've been taken to a very secret, very _dangerous_ facility. I mean one where they don't come back. I need to talk to Storm."

It was obvious by Wanda's face that she understood what Eva's plan was. She obviously wasn't a fan. Eva didn't know the reasons why her, her brother, and the rest of the guys hadn't joined Xavier's when they lived so close. And frankly, she'd never bothered to ask. But if Wanda wanted her brother back, she was just going to have to deal.

"Um, okay. Give me a minute, I'll get her," Tracy said, and her voice disappeared.

Eva moved the phone away from her mouth and turned to Wanda. "This is our only chance. They've got that jet, and it's sure to be able to track these coordinates," she said, holding up the piece of paper with the longitude and latitude of The Island.

Wanda sighed. "I know," she admitted, looking down at the floor.

Eva hastily shoved the paper back into her pocket and waited.

"Yes?" came Storm's deep, powerful voice.

"Hi," Eva said quickly. "I'm Eva. I'm a mutant. You don't know me. But… I have an emergency, and I need your help. It's probably better to discuss it in person. Can you give me directions to the mansion?"

"Uh…" Storm stammered. "What kind of emergency?"

"I really need to tell you in person. Don't worry. I'm not some human extremist trying to get directions so I can bomb the place. I really need your help," Eva begged. She didn't want to give her all the details, because she didn't know how willing she would be to help if she knew it was John. She figured they would be very understanding, but she had to be sure.

"Sure, where are you now?" Storm conceded.

Eva proceeded to tell Storm where the boarding house was located, and Storm provided her with directions from there. It was about an hour and a half drive.

"Thank you," Eva said graciously and hung up. "Let's go."

Wanda, however, didn't move as Eva grabbed her jacket and made for the door. "Wanda, come on. We don't have time to hesitate."

"I know, it's just," Wanda said, her shoulders slumping. "I have history there. _Bad_ history."

"Wanda," Eva said, approaching her and laying her hands on her shoulders. "I know this is probably tough for you. But think of your brother. Think of Pietro. Think of the guys. They need help, and Xavier's is the only place that can supply it. Hopefully they'll put aside their differences, just as _you_ will. Okay?"

Wanda steeled herself, and clenched her fists. "You're right. They need us. Let's go."

Eva smiled as they ran back out to the Firebird and sped toward the freeway.

_We're coming guys. Just hold on._

Both girls were silent as they drove. Eva thought of exactly how difficult and dangerous this rescue mission was going to be, and she was sure Wanda was worrying about how she would be received.

But the distance closed in a relatively speedy manner. It was nearing eleven at night when they arrived, but Eva couldn't have cared less. Urgency could wait on father time.

The two of them entered the big iron gates, parked the Firebird, and approached the front door. Eva didn't wait; she just pounded on the giant doors.

As she waited, she looked around. It made her wonder why John had ever left. Out front, there was a magnificent stone fountain that stretched probably two stories high. The mansion itself was… definitely a mansion. It looked like it used to belong to some fifth century English prince. All in all, Eva was very impressed.

The door swung open to reveal a very anxious looking girl, her brunette hair pulled tightly back into a long ponytail. She wore a simple white t-shirt and some baggy black sweat pants, but still managed to make it look sexy.

"Hi, I'm Kitty, Donovan's girlfriend. Tracy told me everything. Is he going to be okay?" she asked nervously.

"We don't know yet," Eva said, and Wanda stepped forward from behind her.

"Oh…" Kitty said, seeing Wanda. "Hi, Wanda. I didn't know you were coming. You sure you wanna be here?"

"No," Wanda replied curtly, but put it aside. "But my brother needs help, so that's why I'm here."

"Oh… okay, well come in. I'll show you to Storm," Kitty said, ushering them in and closing the giant doors.

The two of them followed as Kitty led them down dark wooden hallways, elegantly decorated with intricate rugs and fascinating paintings.

"Kitty and I are cool, by the way," Wanda said to Eva. "Same with Tracy. They sometimes come to the house to hang out. They're all good. The bad blood is between me and some of the adults."

Eva thought back to the news reports after Alcatraz. Most of them reported quite a few deaths.

"I don't think you're going to have to worry about that much," Eva replied. As far as she knew, the only two original adult X-Men left were Storm and Wolverine. If Wolverine counted.

Kitty led them down a final hallway and into a large, stained oak office that resembled a brown version of the oval office. Storm was pacing on the other side of the desk, and a tall, gorgeous blonde was seated in one of the chairs in front of it.

The blonde immediately stood and introduced herself as Tracy Cassidy. Storm speed walked around the desk and approached, but paused upon seeing Wanda.

"Ah… Wanda. It's… been a long time," Storm said, obviously in an effort to be cautious.

"Yes it has," Wanda replied, nodding.

Storm acted like she might say something else, but they didn't have time to settle their differences.

"You are aware of the agency called the NSA, yes?" Eva asked hurriedly.

Storm looked back at her, considering. "Yes. Hank told me that it is an advanced prison for criminal mutants. I saw no problem in it, considering special facilities are probably required in order to hold mutant criminals."

"It's not what it seems," Eva said. "Their using the fact that their facilities are prisons to cover up the injustice and unfair treatment."

"Hank was very concerned about it when it first opened, that's why he was allowed a full tour of one of their facilities. I assure you, he found nothing that wasn't satisfactory," Storm replied.

"He probably visited the IFCM, which is their highest maintenance facility, and the staff there are indifferent to the mutant cause. So he _wouldn't _have found any incriminating evidence. They have others. One specific one called The Island, in which the staff is allowed to do whatever they wish to their prisoners. Mutants go there and don't come back," Eva said.

Storm was quiet. "How do you know all of this? Hank would have had access to all of their records, he would have found something about this 'Island'," Storm replied, obviously incredulous.

This time, Wanda spoke up. "I hacked their databases," she said. "It was highly encrypted. To the point where I had to reroute several IP addresses just to get in. It would have been very easy for the NSA to keep such information hidden from Mr. McCoy. It was also disguised as a research facility; one that didn't involve _any_ mutant prisoners. So Mr. McCoy wouldn't have seen any need to visit the facility. But I assure you," Wanda said, getting an air of determination. "It _is_ a prison. It _is_ unjust. And my _brother_ is in there. He needs help. If you won't help, we have nowhere else to turn. But don't you think, to air on the side of caution, that it would be wise to make sure that The Island is what you think it is?"

Storm was obviously surprised by Wanda's zest. "Well… yes. I suppose you're right. Do you know where this place is located?"

Eva pulled the piece of paper from her pocket, handing it to Storm. "You can track those coordinates with your jet, right?" she asked.

"Yes, I can," Storm said, studying the coordinates.

"And um…" Eva began, knowing that this was the moment of truth. "There's something else."

Storm merely raised her eyebrows, waiting for Eva to continue.

Eva took a deep breath. "John's in there. John Allerdyce."


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter 28**

**Conscience**

Storm stared. She looked like she had just turned into a stone statue. She didn't even seem to be breathing.

"I know you have your differences with him…" Eva tried, scared that this information might have just changed Storm's mind about helping. "But he doesn't deserve what they are most likely doing to him. Please… if not for him," Eva said, looking down. "Do it for me."

This seemed to pull Storm out of her trance.

"I know what has happened to him in his life, and he had finally found a place where he could be content… happy. Please… give him a chance," Eva begged, feeling tears.

Storm stared back at her, completely surprised. "I would never… _could _never just leave someone in a place like this… if it is what you say it is. No matter the differences between us. Of _course _I will help."

Eva's relief was palpable. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in gratitude. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

Storm merely smiled, and pocketed the piece of paper with the coordinates. "I'm afraid we won't be able to leave until morning. I know it will be difficult, but you can try to get some sleep. We always have empty rooms. And considering it's summer, quite a few kids have gone back to see their parents. Tracy, you know of one they could stay in, right?"

"Of course," Tracy said, turning to lead them out the door.

"It's nice to see you back here, Wanda," Storm said sweetly, and Wanda turned to look at her.

Eva could see Wanda grinding her teeth, but she tried to smile. "Yeah… I guess it's kind of nice to be here," she said in an attempt to be polite. Eva couldn't tell if she actually meant it though. She made a mental note to find out what happened between her and the people of Xavier's at a later date.

Tracy led them to an empty room at the end of a hallway. It was small, but cozy.

"Thanks," Eva said to Tracy, and the blonde merely attempted to smile, but failed.

Eva sighed, watching her. "We're going to get them out," she said, trying to comfort her.

Tracy half smiled. "Yeah," she said, looking down at her nails. "If they hurt him, I swear to God…"

Wanda smiled. "Oh trust me…" she began. "If they even lay a _finger_ on any one of them… I'll hold, you shoot."

Tracy smiled. "Thanks Wanda. You know it would kind of be nice to have you around here. The guys too."

"Thanks but… no thanks. I like where I am now. I think the guys like it too. But if we ever feel lost… this place would be our first choice," Wanda said, and again Eva couldn't tell if she actually meant it.

"Well…" Tracy said, obviously changing the subject. "We'll come and get you in the morning. They'll get the team together, and we'll get going."

Both girls nodded as Tracy shuffled from the room, head bowed.

"I'm not gunna be able to sleep," Eva said, looking around the room.

"Me neither," Wanda replied, plopping down on one of the beds.

* * *

John could only tell how much time had passed by the fact that the sun was now pouring into the room through the small, barred window. His wrists were starting to bruise from the heavy chains, but that wasn't what was bothering him.

He had hoped that when he woke up, the numbers plaguing his arm would end up being a bad dream. It wasn't. Those seven numbers stared up at him as if to mock the fact that he was helpless, stuck here like some powerless human.

Not to mention, every time the guards came in, he ended up beaten like a dog. And he would always end up in a corner, cowering with his metaphorical tail tucked. He hated it. Humiliation, degradation, pain. He was sick of it. He knew escape on his own was impossible. But if and when he _did_ get out, he was going to char the shit out of every single one of these fuckers.

But he started to wonder… what if? What if Eva and Wanda _couldn't _get them out? What if he was _stuck_ here? His mind started to wander to all the things he wanted to do with his life that hadn't been completed yet. He'd wanted to be free to use his power as he wished, and during his time with Magneto, he'd done that. But what about everything else? He was a prodigy in school, what if he'd eventually gotten a successful job? It was a far off dream, but what if he'd had a family? What if someone could have loved him? He'd never really known that feeling.

And possibly having a son. Or even a daughter. He or she might end up being a mutant, and he could teach them all there was to know. He could have been needed, wanted. More things he had really never experienced.

He tried to push such desperate thoughts from his mind, but he just couldn't shake them. He'd been restless and reckless his entire life, up until now. He just couldn't shake the feeling that… he'd done it all wrong.

* * *

"Sir!" Commander Trask called, running toward him down the aisle.

Mitchell Davis was not in the mood. Not only was Robert Trask a military man, but he was gruff, vulgar, and violent. Davis supposed he needed a man like that at a place like his Island, but he still didn't care very much for the man.

Davis had worked hard for this place, this Island, and he was proud of the way it was run. Quick, efficient, inescapable. It was his own little sanctuary. A place where he could go when he felt that repetitive hatred for mutants welling up inside him. And he was ecstatic the entire place _belonged_ to him.

"Mr. Davis, sir!" Trask called again, and Davis figured he couldn't pretend to be deaf forever. He turned slowly, not making any effort to wipe the displeasure from his face.

"What is it, Commander?" he asked, not interested in the slightest.

"Well, sir…" the Commander stuttered, seeming almost afraid.

"Spit it out, man!" Davis ordered.

"One of the prisoners has escaped, sir," Trask said, wincing already.

"WHAT!" Davis practically screamed. "How!"

"Apparently he got out of his chains and knocked out the guard that came to give him his morning meal. Nobody saw him after that."

"I employ _hundreds_ of guards at this facility, how in _hell_ did no one see him?" Davis growled.

"I don't know, sir. I've questioned nearly every single guard, none of them report anything out of the ordinary," Trask said.

"Who was it? What was his ability? Was he on the represent serum?" he asked, proud of the drug they had concocted to hinder a mutant's ability to use their power.

"Donovan Steynburg, sir," Trask said, handing Davis the boy's file.

Davis flipped it open and read the boy's stats.

"The boy gets glimpses of the future, so we saw no reason to drug him," Trask said. "His ability didn't appear to cause any threat.

"Is it a threat now, Trask!" Davis snarled, shutting the folder. "Get every available man to search for him. We're on an island, for God's sake. He's either somewhere here or in the water. Find him!"

"Yes sir."


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 29**

**Collision**

Donovan didn't know if he could go on. He'd been swimming for at least an hour, with two broken wrists, poor nutrition, and sheer exhaustion all working against him. But he knew he had to go on. For his brother. For his friends.

So he swam on, making sure to keep the microscopic lights of the New York shoreline ahead of him, and the looming deathtrap of the Island behind him. He knew the guards would search for him, so distance was key. Plus, searching for him in the darkness of night would be much more difficult. Ergo, making this his only opportunity for his escape. He just… had… to get far enough away.

But it wasn't easy, considering he was still blind in his right eye. The saltwater stung at the cut over that eyebrow, but he pushed through, ignored all the pain. Not to mention the shocking revelation he had discovered just recently; the new development to his ability. One that had helped him escape…

He could hear people's thoughts. It had alerted him when the guard was heading to his cell. It had helped him to avoid every single guard on the way out. It had guided him straight to an exit.

He supposed it made sense, with his primary ability; to see the future. To know what someone is going to do ahead of time, you have to hear it before they even take action. He would have been ecstatic, but now all he could feel was panic… a sinking feeling of impending doom.

But he had to get to shore. Get help. Get _something_ to save his brother.

* * *

Eva fidgeted as she sat, staring at the X-Jet, waiting for the X-Men team. So far, the people who had gathered consisted of Storm, Wolverine, Kitty, Tracy, and a handsome boy that Eva didn't recognize, but that Kitty called Bobby. All of whom bore very sleepy faces and lazy feet.

Eva hadn't slept. Not a wink. She had lay there, eyes wide, worrying about what kinds of atrocities this Island place could be committing against John. She didn't know what she was to him, girlfriend or (as Wanda had so eloquently put it) fuckbuddy. And neither of them had even had time to figure that out yet. That's all she wanted… more time.

Wanda was standing beside her, hand on her shoulder, obviously itching to leave. They both watched every move of the X-Men, as if mentally willing them to dress in their uniforms and prep the jet faster. They were doing the best they could, but it wasn't fast enough for Eva. Every second that crept by was another second that John was suffering. Eva couldn't even imagine what it must be like… all the more reason to get there ASAP.

She could feel the weight of the gun stuck in the back of her belt, reminding her that she might have to kill someone to get him back. It was a strange feeling, having a gun. The weight seemed so much more… like there was a bowling ball strapped to her ass, just screaming to be noticed by Storm.

Eva knew Storm wouldn't allow them to carry such crude weapons, especially when both of them were so young. That was why she and Wanda had come to a silent agreement that what Storm didn't know, couldn't hurt her. Yet.

One more person joined them just before they boarded the jet. His name was Peter, and he was enormous. He bore a thick Russian accent, but still remained very humbling and respectful. Eva, however, was just glad the Hulk was on their side.

She silently chastised herself for picking up on John's sarcasm.

The jet was a modern marvel; sleek and perfect, inside and out. Eva, however, didn't want to ogle at it. Once it was all prepped, she merely scurried onboard, strapped in, and started biting her nails. Wanda did the same, picking at her long black pants. She had changed into them and a pair of Converse Chuck Taylors at the mansion, courtesy of a student. After all, a skirt, fishnet tights, and knee-high five-inch heel wedge boots didn't really scream "combat attire."

Storm keyed in the coordinates of The Island when she sat in the pilot's seat, Wolverine in the co-pilot's.

"Judging by this," Storm said, spinning around to face Wanda and Eva. "It's going to take about forty-five minutes to get there. So just sit tight."

Both girls nodded anxiously, wishing it would be faster.

"It's going to be okay," Storm said, softer.

Eva wouldn't believe that until she saw it.

Just as Storm and Wolverine were prepping to ascend from the hangar below the basketball court, a phone began ringing. Everyone turned to face it, finding themselves looking at a mystified Kitty.

"I swore I turned it off," she said sheepishly, pulling it out and flipping it open.

"Hello?" she said questioningly.

The minute the person started speaking, her face went absolutely blank. Though a moment later, it turned to shocked relief.

"Donovan!" she cried, her hand shaking on the phone.

Everyone in the plane gasped, staring at Kitty in anticipation for the news.

Kitty listened for a moment, nodding and repeating "yeah, uh huh."

"We know. We're leaving the mansion now," she said. "It'll take forty-five minutes to get there."

Donovan obviously replied with "make it faster."

"Are you okay?" Kitty asked anxiously. She obviously got an unsatisfactory answer. "Oh, right. Yeah, I guess I'll just talk to you when we get there. Where are you? Okay, we'll get you first. Just hang tight. I love you."

It sounded strange to Eva to hear that from a semi-tomboy like Kitty, but somehow it worked. Donovan obviously replied with the same statement, because Kitty's eyes welled up when she said goodbye.

"He escaped. He swam all the way to the mainland. He's in Greenport. He… doesn't sound good. Please hurry," Kitty said, pocketing her phone.

Storm nodded, sending Wolverine a silent message through her eyes. Apparently it meant "let's not obey air traffic laws and fly like raving lunatics."

But whatever got them to John fastest was fine with Eva.

* * *

Storm didn't bother to stay hidden as she approached Greenport. Kitty had received Donovan's exact location, and Storm just set the jet down in the street. Obviously, the people thought it was some kind of military experiment, and backed off to gaze at the magnificent aircraft from afar.

But Kitty practically bowled them over as she de-planed, and looked wildly for Donovan. It didn't take long to spot him.

He was trying his best not to look out of place, but he couldn't have failed more miserably. He was soaking wet, shivering, his eyes bore black circles, there were horrid bruises on his wrists, and he was walking like he might pass out.

Kitty ran for him, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. He stumbled as she crashed into him, reminding her that he was not in good shape.

"Come on," she said soothingly, reaching for his hand to lead him back to the X-Jet.

Donovan, however, winced as her hand touched his and pulled back weakly. He looked her miserably in the eyes and said simply, "Broke my wrists to get out of the chains."

Kitty was mortified, but tried to keep it together as she and Donovan walked slowly back to the jet, where Storm was waiting on the ramp. She smiled to the onlookers as Kitty and Donovan boarded.

"Just a government project, sorry for the inconvenience. Go back to your lives," she said, turning briskly and shutting the ramp.

As she walked back in, she realized how bad Donovan was. As soon as he was safely inside, his legs collapsed. Logan was there to support him and practically carry him to a seat, where he sat, almost too weak to shiver.

Storm grabbed a blanket and threw it over his shoulders, kneeling in front of him to examine him.

"He said both his wrists are broken," Kitty said, panicked.

Storm held out her hand gently to feel of his wrists. He winced, grinding his teeth as she felt of the bones.

"Oh yeah, definitely broken," Storm said, releasing his wrists gently. She then raised her eyes to continue her examination.

She could see what Kitty found so alluring about him. Besides the exhausted expression and nasty cut covering his right eye and eyebrow, he was very handsome. And the fact that his left eye was green and his right was blue didn't hurt either.

She pulled what looked like a pen from her first aide kit, and clicked on the end, which then shone a beam of light. She shined it in his eyes, her brows furrowing in disappointment.

"Donovan, can you see with your right eye?" she asked, shining the light directly into it. "It's not focusing like the other."

"No," he said shakily. "Got hit in the face with the butt end of a gun. But it doesn't matter. We have to go. We have to get my brother. That place… It's…" he began to tilt forward, his good eye becoming unfocused.

"Whoa," Storm said, catching him by his shoulders. "You calm down. Here," she said, spreading another blanket on the bench-like seat next to him. "Lie down."

"My brother," Donovan argued, his shivering becoming worse.

"I know, we're going right now. But you won't live to see him unless you preserve what miniscule energy you have left," Storm said, easily pushing Donovan back onto the bench.

She turned to walk over to the first aide cabinet, throwing it open and looking through it quickly.

She didn't notice Kitty approach her. "Is he going to be okay?" she asked nervously.

"He'll live," Storm said, pulling out a saline solution bag, a sterilized needle, and an IV drip. "But he's severely dehydrated. I don't blame him though. If this Island is where my maps indicate, he swam at least ten miles overnight in freezing conditions, all the while swallowing up seawater. Which dehydrates you even more. And that cut over his eye worries me. I'm concerned the damage is permanent."

"_Permanent?_" Kitty gasped. "You mean… he'll be blind in that eye forever?"

"I don't know Kitty," Storm said, attaching the drip to the bag, and the needle to the drip. "I'd have to get him back to the mansion to know for sure, and obviously we can't afford that."

Kitty nodded halfheartedly as Storm turned and knelt next to Donovan again. She pushed up his sleeve, but nearly dropped the saline bag in shock. Her own gasp was drowned by that of everyone else.

On his forearm, above the terrible bruises on his wrists, was the number 5162-880, haphazardly tattooed to his flesh.

"My God, Donovan," Storm breathed. "_They_ did this to you?"

He meekly nodded.

"Christ," Logan said under his breath. "Fuckin' Uncle Sam."

Storm tried to brush off her shock as she hung the saline bag on a hook above Donovan's head and inserted the needle.

"Kitty," Storm said, standing and returning to her pilot's seat. Kitty followed, waiting anxiously for instructions. "See if you can get him to eat something," Storm said, firing up the jet engines as Logan strapped in next to her. "He's exhausted, so he'll probably just want to sleep. But he's extremely malnourished."

Kitty nodded, obviously trying to put on her best "tough" face.

Storm grinded her teeth in anger, the image of those tattooed numbers seared into the back of her eyelids, reminding her of the numbers on Magneto's arm from the concentration camps.

"We gotta get those kids outta there," she said to Logan, pulling back on the yoke and firing them into a rapid ascent.

"Damn straight," Logan growled.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 30**

**Awaken**

John didn't know what to think anymore. He had pretty much resolved himself to the fact that he was stuck. And Eva and Wanda were his only chance. Which, sadly, wasn't a very _good_ chance.

He didn't know how long he'd been in here now, and didn't really care anymore. He was covered in bruises, smeared with blood, and drowning in shame. And the shame was the worst of it. He was, as Magneto had put it so long ago, a god among insects. And here he was, caged and powerless. It made him physically sick to his stomach.

He sat hunched against the stone wall of his tiny cell, trying not to irritate his many bruises and injured ribs. He threw chunks of the bricks at the opposite wall and waited for them to roll back so he could do it again. He almost laughed at all the times he'd been this bored back at Xavier's.

But of course, he'd rather be bored until the apocalypse than have those vengeful guards come in and beat him senseless. He didn't know how someone could hate him that much when they didn't even know him. But he assumed it was all mutants and not just him. And this was proven by the many screams and yells coming from other prisoners. It was a nightmare, put simply. And John didn't know if he would ever wake up.

He jumped as he heard many footsteps running down the hall outside his cell, followed by yelling coming in through the tiny window on the other side of the cell. He gingerly pushed himself to his feet and staggered over to the window to see if he could hear anything. The window was too far up the wall for him to see out, but he listened intently. It was distant and unclear, but there was definitely people yelling. There was also a somewhat familiar humming sound beneath the raised voices.

Through the commotion outside, a flash of light split the sky and a thunderclap tore through any silence that had previously existed. John jumped, and his ribs screamed in protest. He clutched his chest to try to steady himself as he kept listening.

More thunder, more lightning. _Could it be?_

Before he could even make out if his doubts were true, he heard his cell door slam open. He spun painfully around to see the big, bulky commander of the force that had captured them. Trask, his name was.

"You're comin' with me," Trask growled.

The man crossed the room in one big stride, clasping his enormous hand around John's upper arm in a vice grip. John tried his best to walk gingerly, but Trask was dragging him. He stumbled as Trask led him out into the hallway and began dragging him down it to an unknown destination.

About halfway down, a thunderous crashing resounded behind them. Trask paused for a moment to spin and look, as did John.

Coming from the open door of John's cell was a torrent of water and a flood of sunlight. Someone had taken out the wall. John wasn't about to waste any time.

"HEY!" he screamed, pulling against Trask in a futile effort to get free. "Hey, I'm in here!"

"Shut up, you!" Trask barked, and began pulling him faster down the hall.

"HEY!" he continued yelling, pulling against Trask with all his might.

To John's complete surprise, three people stepped through into the hallway from his cell. Eva came first, the water surrounding her on the floor moving and following her like a snake. Next came Storm, her snow white hair billowing around her angrily and her eyes gleaming the same brilliant color. Next, to John's biggest surprise, came his old friend and rival, Bobby Drake a.k.a. Iceman.

When Eva saw Trask, she lifted her hands, the water following into two powerful looking pillars. "John, get away from him! He'll kill you! They're trained to never let their prisoners escape. Under _any circumstances!_" She and the other two immediately began running toward John and Commander Trask.

Trask spun around, dragging John backwards so that his back was against the giant man's chest. John tried to fight back, but didn't get far. Trask had whipped out his night stick and jabbed it right under John's injured rib.

John screamed as the sheer agony of it ripped up his side like a burning hot knife. His breathing shortened and his sight flashed black for a moment. He decided not moving was probably his only option.

"Not another step, all of you!" Trask yelled, ramming the night stick up farther.

John winced as another animalistic yelp escaped him.

His three rescuers froze, throwing up their hands in a show of submission. "Alright, okay," Storm tried to reason with him. "We're listening."

"You three aren't gettin' any of my prisoners," Trask growled, his arm moving slightly, making John groan under the pressure. "Not one."

"Oh there's more than just the three of us," Bobby replied confidently. "And you're wrong."

As John looked at the three of them standing there, seemingly without a plan, he reminded himself to play poker with Bobby sometime; his bluff was awful. But he also noticed that Bobby was smiling. _Why on God's green earth is he…_

Then he saw it. Bobby was holding a lighter in his left hand, and it was lit. John sneered.

"Immovable object; meet the unstoppable force," he clipped, and took one hand from Trask's arm, where it had been trying to pull off his grip. He brought it down hard, right into Trask's gut.

Trask grunted and his hold on John loosened. _Perfect._

John pulled away to remove himself from his own trajectory as he reached out to the flame with his mind. It immediately reeled up like a stallion, causing Bobby, Storm, and Eva to back quickly away.

The flame raced through the air toward them, with nothing but John's will to fuel its progress. Trask's eyes widened as he realized escaping the inferno was probably not an option. He reached out a hand to John as the flame came within inches.

Several things happened in the flash of a few seconds. Trask pushed John back against the wall, where his back hit the stone hard. Not only did he hear a crack, but he felt it. The now completely broken rib had sliced right into his lung. He began choking as the flames swallowed Trask whole.

Trask's scream was lost to John. He slid down the wall, clutching desperately at his chest as breathing became more and more difficult. When the flames dissipated, Trask was lying motionless on the floor, and Storm, Bobby, and Eva were rushing forward.

"Oh God, John!" Eva was panicking as she knelt next to him. "What's wrong?" she asked nervously.

He couldn't speak. Just breathing was excruciating. He tried to point to his chest, but even the movement of his arm caused his breathing to catch. When he started choking, it didn't stop.

"Easy," Storm said, shoving through Eva to see what she could do. "Try to take shallow breaths, okay?"

John tried to do as she said, but nothing helped. And his mouth felt moist… there was something liquid dripping from his lips.

"_Shit,_" Storm cursed. "Coughing blood. Probably punctured a lung."

"That's bad, right?" Eva asked as Storm frantically thought of what to do.

"That's _really_ bad, Eva. His lungs could fill with blood," she said, picking up her communicator.

"Logan, up here. First story, where Bobby, Eva and I came in. Bring everyone," she said quickly.

"Gotcha," Logan's voice grumbled back.

"Okay, John," Storm said, with the air of someone talking to a terminal patient. "I have to get you back to the ship if you're gunna have any chance. And it's going to hurt _really_ bad."

John nodded and set his jaw as Storm reached forward to help him to his feet. "Bobby, other side. Help me," Storm commanded.

Bobby knelt and both he and Storm reached their arms under John's to pull him to his feet. "One, two," Storm counted.

As they pulled him to his feet, John was sure he'd never felt anything more painful in his entire life. His mind wanted to scream, but his body had already reacted to the severe pain. His legs gave out and his eyesight went pitch black.

"Hold him," he could hear Storm saying, amongst a gathering of many footsteps. "Logan, I need you to take him back to the jet. He's got at least one broken rib, possibly two, and one has punctured his lung. Be gentle. I'm going to help them get the others; I'll be there in a second. Give him a shot of morphine.

"And hurry back, Logan!" she called. "We'll need you!"

John felt Logan pick him up under his knees and shoulders, but the pain that came with it finished him off. He lost consciousness as Logan walked briskly back to the cell where they had broken in.

* * *

Eva couldn't stop the tears as she watched Logan rushing an unconscious John back down the hallway. Her heart screamed at her to follow, but she knew the X-Men needed all the help they could get. She bit her lip as she turned back toward the group.

"Wanda, the itinerary," Storm commanded, stepping toward Wanda and holding out a hand.

Wanda had used the X-Jet's computer system to hack into The Island's databases again and find the cell assignments. She ripped the paper from her back pocket and handed it to Storm.

Storm studied it for a moment, then looked up at the numbers on the cells. "Oh good, they're near each other. Here, Bobby, take this," she said, handing him the cell list. "Freeze the locks on the doors."

Bobby took the list, and immediately got to work. He froze the keyhole of the lock first, then the rest of the mechanism, steam rising from the door as he did.

Eva nervously tapped her fingers together as she waited, just itching to get back to John and see if he was okay.

As if on cue, Logan reemerged from John's cell.

"He's in bad shape, Storm," Logan said in his deep drawl.

"I know," she said, rubbing her temples anxiously. "We have to get them and get out. Get us into these rooms."

Logan looked to his right at the first door with a frozen lock. "With pleasure," Logan grinned, and the _snikt_ sound was immediately followed by the door screaming it's dying words.

The door flew open at the force of Logan's attack, revealing Paul, chains around his wrists, looking very… drugged.

"Logan, get those chains off of him. Kitty, you take him back to the jet. When you're done, Logan, I need you to open the rest of these doors."

Logan grunted in response as he and Kitty stepped into Paul's cell.

"_Shit,_" Storm said as she stepped up to the next door, where Bobby was working to freeze the lock. "We got company."

Eva looked down the hallway both ways, where she saw a hoard of armored soldiers bearing guns closing in on them. She decided to take it into her own hands.

"Nobody move," she said loudly, and reached out to the waves outside. Outside, as if drawn by magnetic force, an amount grand enough to fill three Olympic pools sailed right up through the air, defying gravity, and into the open wall of John's cell. She guided it with mathematical precision.

It crashed into the thin hallway, rebounding off the opposite wall and spilling both directions. She forced the one that wasn't coming toward them to swell up take out the group of soldiers approaching from that side. The flood coming toward them was a little more tricky.

It was a wall of water that towered at least nine feet, and she could tell that some of the X-Men were getting twitchy as it rushed toward them.

"Just don't move!" she called to them again as the wall of water reached them.

Then, like a prized jumping horse, it sailed right over them, not even dropping a single raindrop on their heads. She turned to face the other soldiers head on as she sent the wall of water straight into them, knocking them down the next hallway and out of sight.

Eva could tell Storm was thoroughly impressed by the look on her face. "Well done, Eva!" she gasped.

"Thanks," Eva said. "It won't buy us much time, though. It probably didn't kill them or even knock them out. It just tossed 'em down the hall. We have to hurry."

Again on cue, Logan began walking toward the next door with a frozen lock. He continued in a pattern this time, opening every door first, then doubling back to help get the kids out of their chains.

Eva was returning to the first one to help when she heard a gasp that hurt her ears. She spun around to see Tracy standing in the doorway of one cell, hand on her heart. "Scott!" she yelled, and stormed in.

Eva followed curiously around the corner to peer into Scott's cell, and did not like what she saw.

Scott was laying on the floor, barely conscious, his left leg covered in blood and twisted at an odd angle. Eva's hand flew to her mouth as she watched Tracy, crying madly, kneel next to him and try to talk to him.

"Logan!" Eva heard Storm yell, and she turned. "In here."

Both Logan and Storm came in, Logan immediately slicing the chains off of Scott's wrists.

Logan knew what to do. He knelt on the other side of Scott and dragged him to his feet, whereafter he pretty much carried him from the room. Scott tried to walk himself, but when weight hit the leg, he screamed and nearly collapsed.

"Easy kid, I gotcha," Logan growled, holding him entirely to help him down the hall. Tracy follwed for a while, then apparently made the same painful decision as Eva had; help the X-Men.

"We don't have much time," Storm said, and they all realized that more footsteps could be heard coming down the halls. "Get the rest of them. Let's move!"


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 31**

**Race Against Time**

The soldiers closed in like freight trains. It took nearly everyone to fight them off while Tracy, Wanda, and Kitty got the rest of the group out. Most of them were just drugged; few were in as bad of shape as Scott and John. Eva figured it was because both Scott and John had the "don't take shit from nobody" gene in common, making them more susceptible to people's hatred.

Dominic was fairly bad, but it was only because he had apparently had another spell with his disease, and hadn't received the treatment. Wanda had to actually pick him up and carry him, but it wasn't difficult since Dom was probably only 120 pounds max anyway.

The soldiers nearly doubled in the tiny cramped hallway as Kitty helped the last person, Billy, into John's busted up cell and out to the waiting X-Jet, which was floating gracefully on the pounding tide.

Eva, Storm, Logan, and Bobby all backed into John's cell, fighting against the attacking guards with all their might. They stepped backward carefully, never turning their backs on their enemy yet still managing to make it to the edge and the threshold of the X-Jet's lowered ramp.

"Eva, can you do something for me?" Bobby asked as they threw attacks of water and ice at the guards who were trying desperately to enter John's cell and stop the X-Men.

"Maybe, depends," she said.

"Push them back out of the doorway with a blast of water. Then I'll freeze the doorway over. It won't take them long to break it, but it might be long enough to get us out!"

Eva didn't wait to hear the rest of the plan. "Duck!" she yelled, raising her hands out like Jesus.

The water below them launched out of the ocean, leaping over Eva and the rest of them with just as much accuracy as last time. It slammed into the guards like a metal wall, sending them crashing backwards.

Bobby didn't waste even a millisecond. He threw up both hands, and a thick, crystalline mist began spraying from both palms. Eva watched as an ice wall seven inches thick crawled from floor to ceiling in a spider web-like fashion. It took him only three seconds to complete the wall.

Eva spun around, as did Bobby, Logan, and Storm. "Get in the jet!" Storm yelled, leaping from the shore of The Island to the X-Jet's ramp. Everyone quickly followed quit.

"Logan, get that ramp up! We gotta get out of here!" Storm yelled, frantically strapping herself into her harness. Logan quickly took the copilot seat, not bothering with the belts.

"No! We can't leave!" Scott said suddenly, sitting up from where he was lying on a pull out stretcher. "There's a girl! We have to save her! She's young… red hair… we have to!"

"I'm sorry Scott, there's no time. John needs medical help now, as do you. We can't save them all. I'm sorry," Storm said frenetically.

"No! We can't just leave her!" Scott begged, but the plea fell on deaf ears. Storm was already lifting the ramp and firing up the engines.

Eva felt sorry for Scott, but decided her own problems could now take precedence. The walls in the back were littered with metal pull out stretchers, and she quickly spotted John and rushed to him.

She knelt next to the bed, grabbing John's hand gently. It was obvious that he was heavily sedated and on plenty of painkillers, but he still noticed her touch. He slowly turned his head to look at her as Eva felt the jet lifting shakily from the water.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey," he replied, obviously making a weak effort to smile at her. "Thank you."

"You'll never have to thank me… us, John. You needed help. It was our _responsibility_ to help. You don't owe us anything."

He smiled again. "Well… thanks anyway."

"Yeah," she replied lightly, squeezing his hand lightly. "So how do you feel?"

"Like a guy on a shitload of morphine," John replied. "But I'd rather that than the pain."

"Storm's gunna help you. You'll be okay," Eva said, laying her head on the side of the stretcher and staring at his gorgeous deep brown eyes.

"Don't be so sure," John replied, his squeeze on her hand feeling very weak. As if to emphasize his point, a fit of coughs attacked him, blood coming to his lips again.

"Storm!" Eva called, her anxiety very obvious.

Storm looked back, saw John, and told Logan to take the yoke. She rushed back and knelt next to John.

"There's really nothing I can do until we get back to the mansion," Storm said apologetically.

"Nothing?" Eva asked.

Storm sighed. "I suppose I could give him a muscle relaxant to slow the bleed," she said, more thinking aloud than speaking to Eva.

She stood and pulled out a syringe from a cabinet and quickly injected him.

The effect was almost instant. The coughing slowed, then stopped. His breathing was shallow, but at least he was comfortable.

"Thanks, Storm," Eva said, grabbing hold of John's hand again. "Hold on. We'll be there in no time."

Eva heard Tracy call Storm over to Scott, so she nestled in next to John again. John smiled weakly, but closed his eyes shortly after to rest. Eva leaned forward so that her lips were right next to his ear.

"You have to be strong. I haven't had enough time with you. I _want_ my time with you," she said, not in a selfish way, but more as a motivator for him.

He actually opened his eyes again and stared straight at her, as if he'd never seen anything clearer. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, squeezing her hand.

Eva smiled and just sat with him, content to stay with him for the duration of the flight.

* * *

Storm walked over to the other side of the jet where Scott was lying on another metal pull out stretcher. Tracy was seated on a seat above his head, stroking through his hair and obviously trying not to cry.

"What is it, Tracy?" Storm asked wearily.

"I don't know," Tracy said, her voice shaky. "He's been shivering, and it won't stop."

Storm stepped forward, trying not to look at his left leg, which was very obviously broken at the knee and mangled in some way… Storm thought it looked like burns. Certainly those people wouldn't have _burned _him. But of course, it didn't seem like a far leap from what else they had done.

Scott was trembling quite badly, and it didn't seem to be because of cold.

Storm sighed. "He's already had one shot of morphine," she thought aloud. If that one wasn't helping, another one certainly wouldn't do much good.

"Just give him another. Please. I can't stand to see him in pain," Tracy said, and a tear fell down her high cheekbones.

Storm decided it was all she could do, so she pulled out another syringe of morphine and gave it to him.

She watched as the shaking eased a little, but not much. Tracy just took a deep breath and continued to stroke his hair comfortingly.

Storm wanted to just scream as she walked back toward the front of the airplane. How could someone be _this_ cruel? She just hated it.

She walked back up to the front and picked up her communicator. "Logan, can you keep flying for a bit, I have to make a phone call," she said.

Logan smiled. "Of course," he said, smiling through his scruffy beard.

Storm dialed and paced the length of the jet as she waited. Donovan was sitting in a seat, Kitty next to him, trying to cradle his broken wrists. Wanda was sitting between Pietro, who seemed okay, just banged up and bruised, and Dominic, who was barely clinging to consciousness. Eva had told her earlier that he needed a medication for a disease, and then he would be okay. All they had to do was get him back to the mansion in a hurry… which seemed to be a theme between several of them. Paul was lying on his own stretcher, just as beaten as Pietro. Billy seemed okay, but was sticking to himself on a seat at the back. All in all, it was pathetic and depressing.

"Hello?" came a deep, very professional voice.

"Hank, it's Ororo. You know that favor you owe me? I'm calling it in," she said urgently.

A little while ago, she had appeared at a congressional meeting of his to give a speech on the impact and dangers of helpless mutants in impoverished countries, such as Africa. And he had told her than that he owed her one.

"Of course, Ororo, anything you need. What is it?" Hank asked.

"Several very good surgeons and doctors. And I need them to be at the mansion _very_ quickly," she said.

Hank's voice took on a very serious tone. "Of course, but… who's hurt?" he asked, concerned.

"None of our students. We rescued a few…" she paused, deciding not to tell him that some were Brotherhood members or just plain anti-Xavier's. "Kids from a mutant prison. I'll have to contact you later about it. It _must_ be shut down. It's preposterous. We didn't know it existed, that's why you didn't have any information on it. But that will have to wait 'til later. So can you get me what I need?"

"Uh..." Hank began, and Storm realized she'd never heard Hank stammer before. "Yes, yes I can do that."

"Thank you, Hank," she said, wishing she didn't have to be so urgent to an old friend like Hank McCoy. "You're a lifesaver, really."

"Anytime, Ororo," he said.

"Bye."

"Goodbye."

Storm disconnected the communicator, sighed, and looked around at the depressing sight around her. Anger welled up again as she strode back to the pilot's seat to put the jet into high gear. These kids needed help. Now.


	32. Chapter 32

I will... I dunno... love you forever if you can tell me what movie it is that John quotes. :-]

**

* * *

**

Chapter 32

**Chaos**

The scene at the mansion upon their arrival was pure madness. There were two surgeons and plenty of nurses, as Storm had requested of Hank, but just the mad rush to get the boys inside made the place resemble a hospital after a massive train wreck.

The worst were taken first; Scott, John, and Dominic, based on his necessity to receive his desperately needed medication. The next in line was Donovan, who had barely made any progress, which worried Storm.

But Eva could tell that, for now, the top priorities were Scott and John. One of the nurses took Dominic aside, since giving an injection was really not work for a surgeon. Eva held John's hand the whole way as Storm and one of the nurses loaded him onto a mobile stretcher and began wheeling him to the medical wing of the lower level of the mansion. He was still heavily drugged, but he held fast to her hand as he was wheeled into the room. One of the surgeons was standing ready, gloves and facemask on.

"One broken rib, possibly two," Storm began, leaving the table to don her own pair of latex gloves. "And a punctured left lung. He's been bleeding into it for around an hour, hour and a half."

"Alright," the surgeon replied, stepping forward with a pair of sheers and cutting John's shirt off. "There's no solution but to operate. I'll need you to leave, miss," he said, nodding to Eva.

She knew two things; first, protesting Storm and a top-ranked surgeon was probably futile, and second, her weak stomach and squeamish tendencies wouldn't allow her to stay anyway. So she raised John's hand to her lips and kissed it gently.

"Be strong," she said simply, dropping his hand and heading for the door.

She had to quickly jump aside, however, as Scott's gurney was wheeled quickly in, followed by several more nurses and the other surgeon.

She watched as Tracy was told to leave as well. The two of them walked out together, joined in a common desperation as the door closed in finality behind them.

Compared to the chaos inside the newly transformed operating room, the hallway outside was as silent and calm as a warm, cloudless summer night.

The other patients were seated in numerous chairs, their heads bowed as they all thought back to what they had just endured. It was a terribly pitiful sight.

Pietro was bruised and battered, but there was a nurse cleaning his numerous lacerations and abrasions with alcohol swabs. Wanda watched diligently, but Eva noticed that her eyes also wandered to Dominic, who had received his shot and was now seated on the cool floor, leaning against the wall as he rested. Paul seemed okay, but as Eva learned, he had been given a drug that stopped him from using his ability. It was slowly wearing off, and he was becoming slightly more alert.

As it turned out, Billy had been given the same drug, but he had also been whipped. Yes, whipped. Eva had a hard time believing it too. He hadn't told them initially because he'd been in a bit of shock. He was now sitting backward on a chair as another one of the nurses cleaned the marks and cuts left by it.

Tracy resorted to sitting next to Kitty, her only friend in the matter, and Eva decided to pop a squat next to hers; Wanda.

"How's Pietro doing?" she asked quietly, watching the nurse cleaning a cut above his right eye.

"He's pretty banged up, but nothing's broken, thankfully. Apparently he fell while running when they were fighting at the house," she said, her eyes drifting back over to Dominic.

Eva smiled, glad for any distraction to take her mind off of how beaten and broken John was.

"So… I, uh… see you eyeing Dominic over there," she said, nudging Wanda.

"Oh, uh… yeah," Wanda replied somewhat sheepishly. "I dunno… there's just something about the mystery of him… the fact that if I want to know something about him, I have to work for it since he doesn't speak. It just… well, frankly, it turns me on. I know… I shouldn't have such thoughts in a situation like this, but so sue me. I have a fucked up mind."

Eva laughed. "Oh don't you worry. I like _John._ You have to be a little strange in the head if you like John."

Both of them laughed, but it was obvious that both were hollow laughs; they had bigger worries on their minds.

For the next few hours, everyone was on edge, wandering around and doing anything they could to take their minds off of the seriousness of the situation. Eva spent her time wandering the halls of the lower level of the mansion. She found a big round door, which Kitty informed her was something called "Cerebro." Whatever the hell that meant, Eva still found the modernity of the place fascinating.

She watched as one of the nurses used a mobile X-Ray machine to scan Donovan's wrists, which did turn out to be broken. The nurse then wrapped both of them into casts; blue at Donovan's discretion. Eva, Kitty, Wanda, and Tracy were among the first to sign them, writing such things as "feel better," or "thanks for helping us out."

Donovan had informed them, just after they picked him up in Greenport, of which side of The Island all of the guys were being held on, which level, and where exactly on that level. All of this information saved them countless minutes of figuring out where to attack, allowing them to just break right in to where they needed to be.

Logan was the next to request to sign it, which Eva found very strange. He didn't really seem like the sentimental type. Of course, as she soon found out… he wasn't.

He wrote, "Get well soon, turd," and promptly put out his cigar right next to his signature as a memento.

But the lighthearted air didn't last long. The nurse thoroughly examined Donovan's left eye, the one that had been struck by the butt end of a gun, and informed him that the damage was most likely permanent.

Kitty seemed more devastated than Donovan did. He seemed to be in a state of shock and denial, so it didn't really sink in when she told him. She told him that it usually didn't hinder people much; that the human body has an incredible way of adapting. However, her message fell on deaf ears, so she told him that she was finished, that he should take it easy for a while, then left to tend to the others.

For a little while longer, Eva sat just across the operating room, staring at the doors as if willing them to open and reveal that John was fine.

But apparently her Vulcan mind powers were a bit weak today, because it took another half an hour before the doors opened, revealing a very tired-looking Storm.

Both Eva and Tracy rocketed to their feet, approaching and firing off the "how is he?" and "is he okay?" questions.

"They'll both _be_ okay, but the damage was substantial," Storm said, wiping her brow in a fatigued manner. "Both procedures went textbook well. They both had to have titanium implants to stabilize the broken bones. John's was a bit simpler, since it wasn't on a joint. It turned out that only one rib was broken, the other just severely cracked. There's nothing we can do for that one except time. The plate was implanted to set up the broken rib for accurate healing. It should never bother him, so he won't need to have it removed. Scott had to have a small plate and six screws at the kneecap. They should heal up just fine, but I'm afraid they'll scar. They're both still sleeping right now, but I can inform you when they wake up."

Both Tracy and Eva tried their best to cope with all this information as they solemnly nodded. Storm smiled at them, and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. "Everything is going to be fine," she told them reassuringly. "We got them out in the nick of time. _You_ did. _You_ saved their lives. Don't be too hard on yourselves."

Tracy and Eva nodded again, turning to each other with pure confusion and desperation in their faces. This had been far too long of a day.

* * *

When John's consciousness began to flutter back, he was in a far different surrounding than he last remembered. He remembered getting knocked back by Trask, hitting the wall, and the rest was a blur of fuzzy vision and intense pain.

Now the pain was gone, and the area around him was particularly silent and peaceful. He slowly opened his eyes, afraid that it was all a dream, and that he was still in that horrid place.

But instead, all he saw was sterile white paneled walls, Storm, Eva, and someone in a doctor's outfit all staring at him compassionately.

"Good morning starshine," he said weakly, quoting one of his favorite movies. "The earth says hello."

Everyone present laughed. "Ah, always quick with the wit, John," Storm said, smiling genuinely.

John smiled and tried to sit up.

"Whoa, slowly," Storm said, jumping forward to help him into a sitting position. He didn't feel any pain, but he assumed that might have been because of heavy drugs.

"What happened?" he asked, stabling himself by leaning back on his hands.

"Well," Eva began, smiling widely at him. "The X-Men were gracious enough to help us save your sorry asses."

John smiled and looked down to check out his chest.

Where before there had been a strange dent and a huge bruise, now there was a sutured incision. Truthfully, it scared him a little.

"Whoa, shit," he said, wondering why it didn't hurt like hell.

"Yeah," Storm said carefully. "You had a broken rib that had punctured your lung, so we had to repair the damage."

She stepped back to a light board and pulled off an x-ray, holding it up to the light so John could see. Attached to his third rib was a bright white shape the length of the rib itself, and three screws; one at the base, one on the middle, and one at the end. Again, it was a little freaky since it looked like a five year old had taken a set of FunTools and a bent chopstick to his rib.

"The metal is to set up the bone to heal correctly, the screws keep it in place," Storm said, pointing to them on the x-ray. "You could technically have it removed when the bone heals up, but most people just leave it since it shouldn't cause any issues."

John was having trouble following. It was just too much information at once. He rubbed his temples, noticing that lifting his arm no longer hurt.

"Uh…" he began, looking back up at the x-ray. "So you fixed the lung?"

"Yes," Storm replied. "But the stitches are pretty fragile, so no stressing them, okay?"

John nodded, looking around the room. On the opposite side of the small room was another stretcher, on which lay Scott, unconscious, with Tracy sitting in a chair next to him as she waited for him to wake.

"How is everybody?" he asked, hoping like hell that everyone had made it out.

"Pretty banged up, but everyone made it out in relatively one piece. Scott was the worst; his knee was shattered and that leg was covered in third degree burns."

"Burns?" John asked. He had wanted to do something along those lines when he and Scott had had their little scuffles and arguments, but he had never actually done it.

"Yes," Storm replied gravely. "Apparently his guard was a bit of a pyromaniac. Excuse the pun."

John smiled. If he'd known that, he might have been able to sneak a flame from Scott's cell out the window or something.

"He had to have a plate and screws, just like you," Storm said, watching Tracy as she held Scott's hand. "He won't need a cast since the plate pretty much set it where it's supposed to be, but I do need to wrap it to keep the burns from getting infected. Which reminds me," she said, stepping forward. "I need to wrap yours to keep the incision from getting infected. Eva, would you help me?"

"Of course," Eva said, stepping forward and waiting for instruction.

John looked at her with a sense of… adoration as she and Storm began winding gauze wrap around his chest. She had gone through so much to get him out, and they really knew nothing about each other. They had only known each other for a week before they were captured. It told him that she might care more for him than he previously thought. And he liked that.


	33. Chapter 33 Fin

**Chapter 33- Finale**

**Decision**

John sighed as Eva and Storm secured the gauze around his chest tightly. His body ached as he painfully slipped on a button-up shirt, given to him by Bobby. He hated to accept anything from Bobby when they had so many differences between them, but he assumed… what the hell, he'd already saved his life. Why not take a shirt from the guy. It wasn't really John's type; a sky blue with white pinstripes, but an ugly shirt was better than no shirt.

He shivered as he watched Scott wake and receive the same devastatingly shocking news as John had. Tracy held his hand the whole time, and John couldn't help but smile. Tracy used to be a weird little scared girl. Now she had turned into a woman in every way. So much had changed…

When Storm was through explaining the situation to Scott, whose face resembled a deer in the headlights, she wrapped his injured leg and let everyone else in from the hall. Donovan went straight to his brother, both disgusted at what the NSA had done to the other.

John noticed that Billy had a wrap around his chest, and Eva explained that it was because his guard had actually whipped him. Dominic looked pale and sick but otherwise okay. Pietro was bruised and cut up. Paul almost had Dominic's sickly appearance, and Donovan had a cast on each wrist, and a bandage over his left eye. John looked around at his group of friends, all battered and broken, and a raging anger boiled up inside him. Those men needed to pay. Pay for what they had done.

John jumped as Storm laid a hand on his shoulder unexpectedly.

"John," she said with the air of a parent about to give a speech to their child. "I know you think that you could never return here. I know you feel lost and confused. But you know that… well, we don't hold anything against you. You can come back to Xavier's. Nobody will judge."

John listened intently, realizing that he had a very important decision on his hands. Stay and hide or leave and fight.

"You _and_ all of your friends. It's a safe place, John. Even if you only live here. Even if you don't stick around all day. It's somewhere you can be content," Storm said, obviously hoping he would choose to stay.

John sighed, not willing to make the decision for everyone else. "Can you give us a minute to talk it over?" he asked, motioning to the rest of his housemates.

"Of course," Storm said, walking out of the room, followed by the doctors and nurses.

"Kitty, Tracy," Donovan said sweetly. "You should probably go too. This is a decision I need to make for myself, and if you're here I… well, _we,_" he said, motioning to Scott, "might be swayed by the fact that you guys want us here."

Kitty nodded sweetly, kissed Donovan on the cheek, and left with Storm. Tracy was a bit more reluctant, obviously wanting to stay and convince him to stay at Xavier's. But she soon sighed in defeat and left with Kitty, the doors hissing closed behind her.

Storm stood outside the door, hoping beyond hope that John decided to stay. She knew John thought he could never be accepted back at Xavier's for his actions with Magneto. But the truth was, nobody here judged him for it. In fact, several of the students agreed with what Magneto was doing, just didn't want to join him.

Storm paced in front of the door as the X-Men waited. Rogue eventually joined Bobby, her ungloved hand quickly grasping his, and a huge smile spreading on her face. Storm hadn't liked Rogue's decision to take the cure at the time, but it was her responsibility, as the new owner of Xavier's mansion, to stand behind every decision one of her students made. Rogue loved all the friends she'd made here, and she knew no other life. So, powerless, she had returned to stay with the people she loved and go to school with them. She had even mentioned to Storm a few times that she was considering becoming a teacher so she could teach at Xavier's. Storm couldn't have been more proud. Powerless or not, Rogue was one of the strongest women she had ever met.

Kitty and Tracy were obviously nervous. Wanting their significant others wasn't their only motivation for wanting them to stay. They didn't like the idea of them going back out there, when the NSA would most definitely have it out for them now. It was just dangerous for them out there.

Everyone toiled as the time passed…twenty minutes, half an hour, forty-five minutes they stayed in the room deciding what they would do. Everyone stood anxiously as the door opened, revealing John in the lead, everyone else behind him as he buttoned the shirt and walked out into the hall.

"We appreciate the offer very much," John said, the air of pure leadership just glowing about him. "But we must decline."

Storm's, Tracy's, and Kitty's shoulders all sunk.

"But John," Storm began. "It's dangerous out there. Those men will come after you. Stay here, and we will take that place down through policy and negotiation with the government. Places like that have been made illegal since Hank was reappointed, there's no way they'll let it continue."

John's brow furrowed in a slightly angered look. "No," he said definitively. "Policy is old men talking and young people suffering. No action is ever taken. Those people, that NSA… they don't just need to be brought to justice…" he looked down, pulling a lighter he had taken out of his pocket. "They need to pay for what they did."

"John, what you speak of is revenge," Storm argued. "No good ever comes out of that. It won't make you feel any better about what happened."

John's anger boiled up inside. He had been powerless and weak before those wicked, nasty humans. "I'll be the judge of that when their dead, lifeless eyes are staring up at the God that destroyed them. Our decision is made. You go tackle this problem through meetings and yearlong court proceedings. While you're off wasting your time, me and my new Brotherhood will be out there _doing something_ about it."

It was clear that this was the end of the discussion. Eva, who had been standing next to John the whole time, wound her arm into his as he pushed through them and made for the exit. He tossed a single look at Rogue and Bobby, his childhood friends, then never looked back. The entire group followed, limping and grimacing.

But Storm couldn't deny that, even bruised, broken, and battered, they had an air of passion about them; a determination that couldn't be destroyed. John led them confidently, holding his head high through pain and humiliation. It was a quality the late Xavier possessed.

Even through humiliation, degradation, suffering, and unfathomable odds, he had always held his head high; confident in his decisions. Storm had to respect it in John, even though she felt that it was the wrong decision. She could see sadness and a small glint of envy in the faces of her X-Men as they watched John walk out, a path behind him and a purpose in front of him.

Storm silently hoped that that purpose never came into conflict with the X-Men, because if it did, she would hate to destroy something so powerful and strong-willed.

She sighed as she turned back to the X-Men and walked back into the mansion that had created heroes and monsters.

**Epilogue**

Adalia was shaky as she stumbled out of the car, the blindfold was torn off, and her hands were untied. She looked back up at her captor one last time.

The young man, who had apparently been promoted to Commander; he had been bragging the whole time, sneered back at her.

"Now you listen here, Miss Adalia Harper," the man said, leaning out of the white, unmarked van. "You will tell no one of what happened, do you know why? Because a.) No one will believe you, and b.) Even if they do, they won't do anything about it because this agency is government backed anyway. So go on with your pathetic little life, would you? Thanks for the leverage against them monsters."

He then laughed as he slammed the side door of the van, and it quickly sped away into the Florida sunset.

Adie couldn't help but throw the middle finger high in the air at them as they drove away.

The minute she turned around, she was accosted. But she soon found that it was just Derreck. He pulled her tightly into a hug, his fingers twining through her hair.

"Oh thank God," he said. "I called and called and never got an answer. Then when I came over to the shop, Archy was locked out on the deck, the doors were unlocked and open, and things were strewn about. What happened?"

She sighed as he pushed her out of the hug and studied her to make sure she was okay.

"It's a really long story, Derreck," she said wearily. "I'll tell you the whole thing, but… let's just get inside, okay?"

Derreck nodded and led her inside, where Archy happily tried to leap up into her arms, obviously disappointed in his lack of wings.

"Hey buddy," she said, petting his massive collection of fat rolls as she walked in and found that the red message light was blinking on the phone.

She stepped forward, under the watchful eye of Derreck, and hit "play."

"Hey Adie, it's me, Eva," said the electronic recording. "Boy, where to begin. By now, you've probably figured that I haven't headed home yet."

Adie sighed at the fact that Eva didn't even know that she had been abducted.

"Well…" Eva's voice continued. "I'm calling to let you know that I'm staying. For now, my decision is indefinite. I've found people that want me, need me, and care about me, and I'd really like to stay. Perhaps someday I'll make my way home, but for now, this is me. I'm sorry things worked out this way, I just feel like I need some time to find myself. I know that's cliché, but it's what I need. The store is yours. And, to my great sadness, so is Archy. Take care of that little fart; you know how much he loves attention.

"I really think you should go back to school," Eva continued. "You were always so smart, and you got me out of so many pickles, I don't know if I'll ever be able to repay you."

Adie wondered what Eva would think if she knew it was her fault she got _into_ the latest one.

"But the store is all yours now, so you won't have to split the earnings with me anymore. Really, you should go back to school. I know you'd excel. Tell Derreck I say goodbye, and that he better take care of you or I'll be forced to come back and castrate him."

Adie heard Derreck laugh behind her.

"And give Archy a nice big kiss on the lips for me. You guys have been my family for so long, and I will miss you so much. I love you, and take care of yourself. Buh bye."

The message ended with a click, and Adie took a deep breath. Even though she had been through hell, she had the strangest feeling that everything would be okay. She'd been abducted, couldn't report it to the authorities, lost her best friend, and now had a shop to run all by herself. But there was light ahead; a path that only led to happiness. She pulled Derreck into another embrace as she sighed.

Yes, everything was going to be okay.

* * *

First off- please stay tuned for a snippet from the next one. (yes, there is another after this. probably another one after that. John's just my recurring comfort character.) Second- Thank you all SOOO SO much for reading and taking their journey with them and me. It was just as much of an adventure writing it! Truthfully, when I started it, I didnt have any idea where it was going. So thanks to all of you, I found the inspiration to keep going, no matter my plotlessness.

I have no idea what I'm going to do in the next one, but I'm sure it will come to me. That one is going to be bigger, badder, and a much longer thrill ride. There will be new characters from around the world, a new purpose, and maybe a long-lost relative of someones. (And no, it's not John. Obvi, all his relatives are long deceased.) Anyhoo, stay tuned. I'm gunna post a clip from that one that I just wrote.

And again, if you would check out the youtube video I made, which casts this whole story, I would be eternally grateful: www(.)youtube(.)com/watch?v=sVYbnvWfhvw … obviously you remove the parenthesis ;-]

Thanks again everyone!


	34. A clip from the upcoming story

**A snippet from the upcoming John Allerdyce fanfic,**

**entitled "The Alias Alliance"**

* * *

**"Fight Back!"**

John took a deep breath as he strode down the long, barely lit hallway, the echoing sounds of an amplified voice ringing through the entire building. It had been seven long months since he and the new brotherhood had walked out on Xavier's, and John had no regrets.

He held his head high as he wound through doorways and halls, the sound of music and voices getting louder. He thought back to the offer Storm had given, and how badly half of him had wanted to accept. But there had always been, and always would be, a part of him that had anger issues. And the people on The Island had pissed him off. He wanted his revenge, his justice. And politics just didn't cut it in the modern world. Action was what mattered.

He thought back to all that had happened since those horrible days on The Island. They had returned cautiously to the boarding house, to find that it was relatively safe since the NSA had taken it easy to avoid being shut down by Hank McCoy.

It had taken Scott several months of intense rehabilitation before he could walk correctly, and even now he walked with somewhat of a limp. John liked to call him "Gimpy," or "Captain," considering he resembled a pirate with a peg leg at times. Scott usually wasn't amused.

Donovan's wrists healed up nicely, but the blindness in his right eye persisted. It didn't bother him, though. He remained the same upbeat, happy kid John had met all those months ago.

Pietro looked just as dapper as he always had, as did Billy. Dominic still wasn't speaking, but he was very comfortable around his new housemates and friends.

Eva and John had been dating since the incident, and they hadn't even had a fight yet. Every time they argued, it was over the covers, or the remote, or who drank the last of the milk. They knew that bigger issues were out there, and that insignificant bickering wasn't worth the unhappiness.

Donovan was still dating Kitty, and she supported his decision not to join the X-Men 100%. She was a great girlfriend, and John was getting to know her all over again since she stopped by the boarding house at least twice a week. Scott was still with Tracy too, but they had been having some issues.

Scott had taken somewhat of a Stockholm syndrome adoration of the redhead that they had passed on the island. He felt an empty shock about leaving her behind. He never knew where it came from, but he felt that she was the only reason he survived. That those two words she had said to him in the hall had forced him to push through; "fight back." He had lived his life upon those two words for seven months, and Tracy wasn't thrilled that he was doting on some girl he never officially met, when she was right there, holding his hand as he suffered.

John smiled as he came up on his destination. He pushed through the red velvet curtains, and approached to stand between Eva and the guitar rack.

Scott stood before six hundred and fifty-two fans, his guitar strung around his neck, passing his message of mutant freedom subtly in his lyrics. Paul stood stage right, spinning and kicking about as he strung the hard bass lines. Donovan was in the back, going to town on his brand new drum set.

The three of them had always had a band, as John had learned after the incident on The Island, but it was after all of that that they began receiving recognition in the New York music scene. Scott's message changed entirely. Whereas before it had been carefree messages about young love, now they were potent, hard-hitting lyrics about acceptance, persistence, and overcoming unfathomable odds.

They were all messages about his trials as a mutant, but to his fans they could be dissected as whatever they wanted them to be. It could be about a guy who'd just gotten dumped, or a girl who was coming to terms with her sexuality, or basically anything kids worried about. Even their name, "Grace Under Pressure," screamed to its fans a message of hope, liberty, and a plain old "fight back" motive. That's why they had blown up in a such a short amount of time. The tiny venue held 700 capacity, and they were now forty eight away from filling the entire thing. John was sure that by the end of the set, it would be filled to the brim.

He enjoyed watching Scott perform. Something about his charisma reminded John of old Xavier; the one he'd known back when he was a kid. And while he and Scott clashed like cold and hot weather fronts, he couldn't help but kind of like the guy.

As Scott sang the last ringing notes of his final song, John and Eva hooked arms and made their way backstage.

Dominic was sitting on one of the two couches; Wanda curled provocatively in his lap. John wasn't sure if they were dating, but there was definitely _something_ going on. He supposed they were meant for each other; both bearing a lot of baggage, both rather mysterious, and both very dark by nature. John had been skeptical of Wanda getting with Dominic; after all, how the hell would she communicate with him? But as it turned out, they didn't really need to. They had formulated a whole language of pure body language and touching (innocent little messages), and they would hold entire conversations just with eye contact. John found it fascinating that they could read each other so well when he hadn't said a single word to her.

John plopped down on the other couch next to Pietro, pulling Eva into his lap. He looked around, appreciating that his whole gang was here. Even Billy's human girlfriend Andy had made contact with him and flown all the way to New York to be with him. John had finally met Kelly Prescott a.k.a. Tink; Paul's girlfriend. Man, was she beautiful. She had breast-length platinum blonde hair, an hourglass figure, and massive butterfly-like wings sprouting from her back. John loved that all of these people had gathered for this one message. The message of an anonymous redheaded girl that refused to give up; "fight back."

It was never really officially decided, but it was more unspoken; John was the leader of this new brotherhood. Scott sometimes took charge, which usually ended in an argument between him and John, but most of the time it worked out.

John cheered for the guys as they stepped backstage, sweating and panting. Scott set his guitar on the rack and pulled Tracy in for a kiss.

"Hey!" he called to one of the bouncers standing side stage. The man walked over, stoic as ever.

"Let a few fans back here. We're not Blink-182 for God's sake. They're not gunna kill us," he said, wincing as he took a bad step on his left leg.

The bouncer was obviously displeased with this order, but what the band dude says goes as far as he was concerned. So he turned and started fishing out what looked like the sane fans and letting them backstage.

Scott, Donovan, and Paul all treated their fans like family. They changed into clean clothes and tried to clean up as best they could, but if a fan wanted a picture or an autograph, they dropped everything. John loved that even human kids were receiving the mutant message so well.

The same routine continued for about twenty minutes, when their evening changed for the better. How much better, they didn't know yet.

It was one girl that they had let backstage, and she had been waiting patiently in line, just like all the other girls. But when she got to the front, both Scott and John froze. John wasn't sure if he could believe his eyes, but by the look on Scott's face, this was real.

It was her. The redhead who had shaped their lives for seven months. The girl who unknowingly saved the life of a boy she had seen for mere seconds. The girl who had shown that even in helpless situations, a little persistence and a defiant attitude could get you anywhere.

She obviously realized that they knew her. She held her head high, her choppy layered shoulder length red hair making her not intimidating but… captivating. She wasn't tall or impressive. She was small in every way; figure, breasts, height. She wore an unimpressive ensemble of ratty jeans, an old band t-shirt, some skinny emo-ish reading glasses, and a torn-up pair of Converse Chuck Taylors. But something about her was ridiculously breathtaking. So much so that John was speechless.

"Hello," she said confidently, staring at Scott as if it had been only yesterday that she had reached out and grabbed his hand, screaming, "fight back!"

"My name is Maya Davis, and I was on the Island with you. I believe we have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," Scott stammered, stepping away from Tracy. "Yes, I think we do."


End file.
